


Lullaby

by Nenya



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bucky is a little shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, So be warned, WIP be warned, author doesn't know how to tag, no trigger warnings for anything, poor steve, so is Tony, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:29:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 37,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenya/pseuds/Nenya
Summary: No one knows how it works, but it's there all the same. Music. One day it pops up, a song, a melody, your soulmate.No matter what the goons at Hydra do, no matter how often they recalibrate the Asset, the song is always there. Always in it's head. A woman singing.No matter what everyone says, Tony Stark doesn't have a Soulmate. It's fact. Sometimes a song pops up in his head, but it's nothing like everyone describes it. Just a catchy tune, nothing else. But no melody or song comparable to his Soulmate. So, he just doesn't have one. No big deal, right? No one who loves him unconditionally. Yeah... no big deal.





	1. New App out today, get it while it's hot!!!

Music is the window to your soul. Everyone has their own signature melody. Be it their favourite pop song, something classic or just a random string of notes floating around their heads. Scientists have tried their best to find out how your melody get's anchored into your soulmate for ages and have come to a conclusion:

_It just happens. We have no idea how to explain it, all our tests and theories are worthless. Whenever we come up with something, new information comes to light and throws all our carefully crafted theories out the window._

_~Prof. Dr. Stein, Harvard_

Some people might be upset, sorry Dr. Stein, that we included this quote as is. We do this solely to show that even our most respected scientists can't come up with a theory or reason as to why this happens.

On to more important matters, namely, how to find your soulmate. Here, as with everything 'Soulmate', opinions differ on the matter. How can someone possibly find their soulmate might be your most troubling question. And here's how we come in!

This new app, created with the help of some of the best scientists and inventors can help **YOU** to find your soulmate. Answer a few questions, add the melody or song to our database and our unfailing search-algorithm will find your soulmate for you!

-Not scientifically approved, results may vary on count of incorrect source or errors in identifying your songs.

 


	2. The Asset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words in <> brackets are a different language (russian in this case, duh ;)). Playing a bit with timelines, Tony will be a bit younger and stuff happens when they happen :P  
> Comments very welcome. First try at... this :3  
> Don't know how long it's gonna be.

_1982_

It's always painful, to come to after being _cold, frozen, dead._ The Asset shakes it's head, trying to focus. It's still cold, on the floor, trying to get it's muscles to work, get it's bones to move.

„Asset!“ a voice barks through loudspeakers. „New handler coming in. Stand up for inspection!“

A shiver goes through the Assets body. New handler. New rules. New punishments.

It knows the rules, stand up, don't move, wait for orders and so it does just that. It stands up, hands clamped together behind it's back and waits. New handler. If everything goes well, maybe it doesn't need to be recalibrated. But who knows. The Asset shakes it's head a little, getting rid of intrusive thoughts that try to claw their way through it's head. Always.

Always the same. It wakes up. Handler comes in. Words. Compliance. If the handler deems it necessary, recalibration and _white, hot, pain, head splitting._ Words. Compliance.

A young man comes in. Yellow hair, skin tan from the sun. Accompanied by four guards with guns.

The Asset suppresses a smirk. As if five humans could detain it. It wants to snort and scoff at the thought. It's been up against more and left only mangled, broken bodies. They never.... No! Intrusive thoughts. Recalibration. Compliance.

„Asset!“ the yellow haired man barks.

„Ready to comply!“ it knows the procedure by heart. It's answer coming without hesitation. Good. No intrusive thoughts. New handler. Compliance.

The yellow haired man steps forward, around the Asset. Let's his eyes wander over it's body. It's eyes trained on nothing, on the wall. Don't flinch! Compliance. Recalibration.

Music. Somewhere, someone is playing music. It can hear it, clear as if the music is played in it's room but that is impossible, isn't it? The voice of a woman. Singing. In a language the Asset doesn't know. It's... _warm, loving, soothing._ It listens, starts to hum when the words are repeated, feels warm for the first time since opening it's eyes.

„Asset!“

The Asset winces, pulls up it's shoulders and is pushed down in a flash, the muzzle of a gun pressed to it's head.

„Report!“

„Ready to comply.“ the Asset presses out through clenched teeth.

„Are you?“ the yellow haired man snarls. „Get up!“

Four guns are trained on the Asset as it get's up to it's feet, hands clamped behind it's back again. _Don't move, comply, recalibration_. It's eyes are trained on the wall, unblinking, unmoving.

„What was that?“

 _What? What does the handler want? What answer will result in..._ Any answer will result in recalibration _._ A shiver goes through the Assets body. It grits it's teeth. Intrusive thoughts. And still it wants to hear the song again. Wants to bask in the warmth and soothing voice of the woman that sings it. _Nononono._ Recalibration! Compliance! _White, hot, pain, head splitting, nothing, nothingnothingnothingnothing..._

„Get him to the chair!“ the man snarls and two guards grab the Asset by the arms and drag it towards... _No!_

A snarl and two bodies hit the ground, the Asset swirls around, hitting, biting, breaking bones left and right, trying to get away, get away, GETAWAY!!!!

„<Longing>“

The word whips through the room, making the Asset stumble.

„<Seventeen>“

_Nonononono!!!!_

„<Daybreak>“

_Where... Need to... What? How?_

„<Furnace>“

_Can't. No. Don't take it away!_

„<Nine>“

_Noise, gunshot. Right arm out of comission, left working as intended, get out, getoutgetout!_

„<Benign>“

_Stop it! Stopitstopitstopit._

„<Homecoming>“

_Slipping away. Compliance. Recalibration. Pain._

„<One>“

_Please!_

„<Freight car>“

…

„<Soldier?>“

„<Ready to comply.>“

 


	3. Sick and a song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... um. Wow. Hope you like it and continue to like it :)  
> Short chapters are short but I think/hope later ones will be longer... This is just the start you guys :3  
> Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy little ca. 8 year old Tony (he's not a child, OK?? Howard says so and he's gotta be right, right?).

_1990_

His throat hurts. And the gross tea, or whatever that stuff is that Jarvis brings him every few hours, doesn't help much. He is hot and freezing at the same time and his head hurts. And Howard, yes, Howard, don't judge, just told him to suck it up. 'It's the flu, kid. It's not like you're dying. Now, back to your work, have you seen how sloppy this is? Seriously Tony, how often do I have to....'

That was as much as he can remember before waking up in bed, head hurting and smelling like the stuff Ana always rubs on him when he get's a cold. It helps, sure. He can breathe a bit easier but that's about it. Doesn't help much with everything else though.

He tries to work on something new. A new schematic for a robot dog that behaves just as a real one but can't concentrate on it. Everything swims infront of his eyes. And he wanted to show it to Howard this weekend, shows once again that someone out there is working against him. And he was so sure that this time, Howard wouldn't scold him for being childish. Seriously, what was he thinking, showing him his designs for a Captain Ameribear that walks around... Seriously. RoboDog's are where it's at, of that he's sure. They can help. Like... Get the newspaper, though the Starks had Jarvis for that. Or be like the dogs for blind people. Maybe. First he has to get it right, get the dog to behave like a real one, then he can think of other things. Yes.

Not now, though. His head hurts and he is so tired. Except, he's been sleeping all day, only waking up for Jarvis' tea, blech, or when the dreams get too upsetting. He shudders. The dreams. Don't think about them. Go away. Not sleeping. Not sleepy at all. Not. Sleeping. No...

**Red. The glint of metal. Screams. Shouts. Cold. Music?**

He jerks awake, disoriented. Someone is holding him, humming. Who. She starts to sing and rocks him, arms surrounding his body. He shivers and suppresses a sob.

„Shh, bambino. Hush.“ his mom's voice. She starts humming again, sings. An old song. A lullaby. One she's been singing to him until his daHoward started to complain that he wasn't a baby anymore and she shouldn't treat him like one. He was what, three? They'd fought but in the end Howard got his will and his mom only 'coddled' (Howards expression) him rarely after that. Only ever when Howard wasn't anywhere near.

„Mom!“ he rasps out, throat hurting and dry. „Stop it. I'm not a baby anymore.“ He's not. Not a baby, he's a grown boy and doesn't need his mom to sing a lullaby, sheesh. It's so nice though. She's warm and if his nose wasn't so stuffed up he's sure she would smell soo good. And her voice is nice when she sings and rocks him.

„You always will be my baby boy, my tesoro. Now hush, let me sing.“ she scolds him, but smiles, soft. And her voice is so familiar and soothing and sweet. And since it's been a while since he heard it last, he let's her. Lays his head in her lap and let's her pet him. Soft strokes through damp curls. He's sweaty and gross and his nose is stuffed up and runny and it's the best ever. His mom. Singing to him and touching him. It's been so long, he can't remember the last time someone touched him like that, apart from fleeting hugs when he's off to boarding school again. It's so nice and his head starts swimming again and...

„Maria!“

Howard.

„Maria, we're late!“

Of course, some big party or gala or whatever shinding Howards wants to drag his mom to.

„Where... Oh for the love. Maria, it's the flu. He's fine. Aren't you, boy?“

He scrambles back from his mom and up to a sitting position. „Yessir.“

„Come on now, we're late as it is. Frankly, I don't understand you. Whenever he's home you turn into a mother hen and baby him. It's time he goes back to school, if you ask me. They get too much free time and...“

Howards voice prattles on as they walk out, scolding his mom for anything and everything. She looked so nice, couldn't Howard have said, 'You look nice tonight, dear'? Nothing.

He sighs and buries himself under the blanket. He's shivering now, that his mom isn't there with her warmth and soothing touches. He blinks a few times. 'Stark men don't cry.'

Jarvis comes in later, a cup of tea in his hands. He stands in the door for a bit, looking at the wheezing bundle in the too big bed and sighs. The boy is asleep, hair plastered to his head and a red face. He's feverish and has trouble breathing. Jarvis sets the cup down and sits on the edge of the bed. The boy whimpers and thrashes around, caught in a dream. He bends over and pushes some curls out of the boys face, strokes his hair and starts talking quietly. Nothing special, just things he did that day, how Ana scolded him for something, how the car needed washing and so on. After a while, the boy quiets down and breathes more slowly. Jarvis stands up and takes the now cold tea with him. Sleep is better for the little master, that's for sure.

_Thousands of miles away..._

The Asset squats in an abandoned building, the muzzle of it's rifle just sticking out of the window. It waits. Waits for it's target. It's cold, snow is falling and the wind gusts snow through the broken window every now and then. The Asset doesn't move. It's silent, quiet, unmoving, a shadow. It's not there.

Light flares up in the building on the other side of the street. The target is home. A woman is with him, doesn't matter. The Asset cocks it's head for an instance, humming along with the song in it's head. Silently under it's breath, if the handlers heard it... Recalibration. _Painhotwhitelightning._

The Asset moves it's finger, a soft pop and a scream from the other building. High pitched and loud. Loud enough that anyone can hear it. The woman stands in the appartment of it's target and screams while blood and other things run down her face. The target is slumped at her feet, his head a bloody pulp.

The Asset get's up, packs up it's rifle and vanishes in the dark, humming silently to itself. A song. A lullaby that doesn't dissapear no matter what it's handlers do, no matter how often it get's put in the chair. The song is it's... _No!_ His alone. His song. No one can take it from him. No one.

 


	4. The mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we all know what's coming up now, right?  
> Thank you all for your Kudos and comments, never thought so many people would read it /happy dance/. Next up, CA:TWS  
> Ummm... yeah, I lied? not TWS but Afghanistan up next. Sorry folks :D  
> It's so hard to write IT instead of he/him/his >_< If I messed up somewhere, tell me^^ It's not beta read or anything. Just me.  
> Oh, the age stuff... So, canon would point Howard to be what? 50 when Tony is born? So why not 60? It was a scandal, let me tell you. Not only did he take a wife that's so much younger than him but he also has a child now? At his age? The magazines and tabloids were all about this for a good while.

_2001_

First there's waking up and _cold, freezing, hurts._ Then a voice through loudspeaker, get up, present. Hands behind it's back, clamped together, to show compliance (and to make sure the guards are fast enough to react if it decides to lash out at someone but, eh, who cares). Inspection, more compliance. _Don't blink, don't move, don't react, comply!_

If everything goes well... That's it. The Asset get's a pack of liquid something, so vile it has to suppress a gag when it first tastes it. _Not allowed, don't react, comply!_ After that, the mission. Usually something like, go there, kill target, wait for pickup, don't fail, you're the Fist of Hydra, our biggest Asset, be proud, you're helping to shape the new world and other drivel. _Intrusive thoughts, comply, comply, recalibration, no!_

If something is wrong or the handler is bored (and that happens more often than not), it's recalibration. The chair and _white, hot, lightning, nononoplease,_ and everytime the Asset is recalibrated, it's head is a big pile of mush. Thoughts skittering around it's head, it can't hold onto a single one, can't concentrate. It's a pliable piece of nothing, ready to be formed. That's how it knows it's been recalibrated. Thoughts are hard, concentrating is near impossible and it's hands are shaking for a long time until it get's them under a semblance of control again.

Sometimes they throw in maintenance of his left arm. It's hard to sit through that, especially after recalibration, when it's nerves are overly sensitive and every poke from the mechanics sends another jolt of _hurt, pain, white spots infront of my eyes, stop, please!_ through it's head. The arm alone isn't so bad. It's strong, stronger than his flesh arm. It's gleaming silver with a red star on the shoulder, which is kinda... nice? Thanks to this arm, it can do things. Imagine, the Fist of Hydra with only one arm? The Asset snorts at the thought. Yeah, no. The arm is good. Helping. If only maintenance wasn't required every now and then.

Nothing goes well this time. The Asset has problems getting up, still frozen and cold from the tube. It tries to stand still, hands clamped together behind it's back but can't suppress the shivering. When the handler, _older, blond hair mixed with grey, white, wrinkles on his face,_ comes in... To say he's not pleased would be like saying a tsunami is just a bit of bad weather. Yeah, the handler is pissed at the Assets weakness today so it's no wonder he orders for the chair.

The Asset is drooling, kept up by two guards in black, it's muscles twitching. It has problems to focus on anything in particular, everything swimming infront of it's eyes. The handler grabs it's sweat soaked hair and jerks it's head up.

„Asset!“

„<Ready to comply.>“ it murmurs. It's hard to concentrate, but it knows what is expected. If it doesn't answer, punishment, recalibration.

„Get him ready for briefing in 10.“ the handler barks and the Asset gets dragged towards another room.

Water. _Cold, freezing, stopitplease!_ The water is freezing but it helps clear it's head. It's shaking, from the chair, from the cold, it's not sure. Not sure of anything.

The guards come up again and dry it off, getting it's clothes on. Mission. Dark clothes, leather, lot's of places to hide it's knives and guns. Heavy boots. Muzzle. Eye protecters. It's as ready as it gets. They drag it towards another room, ready for the mission.

A picture on the table. A man, old, white hair.

„Asset. Your mission is to retrieve a package. Most likely a box or suitcase filled with vials. Blue liquid. You are to eliminate this man and take the vials with you. Collateral accepted, act at your discretion. It has to look like an accident, no outside influence. Report to your handlers a week from now. Acknowledge!“

„Kill the man on the picture, aquire vials, report back a week from now. Collateral accepted. Stage an accident. Leave no witnesses.“

„Good. Get him going.“ the handler nods at the guards and leaves the room.

The Asset doesn't know how long it takes to get to wherever they're going. It doesn't really care to be honest. It just sits there, listens to the sounds of the handlers. They are talking to each other but it still is too difficult to concentrate on unimportant things. It just is, for the moment. It's mission doesn't start until they're there and it can _get going!_

The handlers give it a bag with supplies, guns, knives, packages with liquid, _so vile, I can't, don't make me drink this!_ and it starts with reconaissance. The house is huge, decorated for christmas and visitors drop in every so often. Some older man, around forty, beard, bald, is the most frequent visitor. Has to be a friend of the family.

The family. Woman, mid forties. Man and woman, servants, in their sixties. A kid, late teens, maybe, hard to pinpoint. And the target. Old. Thin. White hair and mustache. Shouldn't be too much of a problem. The Asset gets to work.

It takes two days to come up with a plan. Two days of crouching in bushes, creeping through the house at night and evading everything and everyone. Seriously, that house is a fortress. Would be. If not for the Asset. It's like a shadow. It comes up with a plan.

The target is supposed to attend a meeting disguised as a party, where he's supposed to bring the vials. They're in a safe in the targets workshop at the moment. It would be easy to get the vials but the target has to be eliminated too.

The plan. Follow target to the party. Wait. Take target out while retrieving the vials. Take car to an accident prone place (find one!) and stage car accident.

The Asset reports back to it's handlers. Demands a bike.

It follows the target. He brought his wife. No matter. Collateral accepted. On the road it finds the perfect spot to stage the accident. The road the target takes to the party goes through a forrest. Curves this and that way. Spot found.

The party. The meeting. Something goes wrong and the target doesn't come out for the vials. He finds his wife among the guests and seemingly enjoys the evening. Change of plan.

The Asset takes it's bike, drives a few miles and hides in the bushes. Takes out it's rifle. Waits.

Headlights. A pop and light recoil from the gun. The car crashes into the trunk of a tree.

Sobbing. Words. The target is still alive. He talks to the woman. Ragged, wet breathing. Collapsed lung, maybe even punctured. Investigate.

The Asset struts towards the car. The man looks up. Talks. „Barnes?!“ Begs for help. Blood everywhere. Pooling out the targets mouth with every breath, every word. The woman's breathing shallow, ragged. Head wound, unconscious. The Asset waits. The target starts to scream at it.

It hears the trickle of fuel, smells it. Not long now. Get the vials!

A small case in the back of the car. The vials are undamaged.

The bike roars just as a spark from some electric cables ignites the fuel. The car goes up in flames.

The Asset was never there.

A few hours later. It's close to dawn now. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

The song is gone. It's song. No. The song is... still there? But muted. Nearly non existent. Investigate! The Asset doesn't know how or where it's supposed to start but it will not go back to it's handlers. It will find out what happened to it's song.

 

It takes two months and a horde of the best Hydra Agents to bring the Asset back in. Most of them are found dead.

 


	5. Unplanned Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter got so out of hand, you wont believe it^^ Planned was a tiny little bit of Yinsen and Tony talking about Soulamtes and then back to the Asset... Well... No Asset in this one, it get's mentioned though, if that helps?  
> Now, serious matters. There's something... spooking around my head, a plot bunny if you will and it's smut. Yay or nay? (not Tony/Bucky yet :P but... close?) Would you like to read something like that or just go on with TWS vanilla (according to me trying to look through the Assets eyes and stuff...). If yay, there's some idea about incorporating it to the next chapter.  
> And last but not least, OMG you guys. Thanks for commenting and all the Kudos. You make my day <3

_2008_

_Afghanistan_

He wakes up with a hole in his chest. Well, not a hole, it's filled with an electro magnet that's connected to a car battery. To hinder the shrapnel in his chest to get to his heart and kill him. Why is he not screaming in terror right now?

There's a man in a suit. He explains some things. The electro magnet in his chest, for example. And when Tony's eyes fall on the camera in a corner of their cave, the Suit just says „That's right. Smile.“

Apparently, Tony's met this man before. He can't remember. Their captors come in. The Suit translates. Probably not word for word. They want him to build them missiles. The Jericho. The thing that he went to Afghanistan to promote. He refuses.

They are not pleased with his answer.

After hours or days of shouting and other... unpleasantness, involving some waterboarding for one and other unspeakable things, Tony and the Suit are led outside. Disoriented by the light, the cave is always dark, dark and damp, Tony has to squint to make out their surroundings. It's a big camp somewhere in Fuck-knows-where, Afghanistan, probably? It's buzzing with activity. Men are walking and running around, carrying crates and boxes, loading them off underneath camouflage nets. Every single one emblazoned with the 'Stark Industries' Logo.

One of the men talks to him. The leader? The Suit translates again. In the end, the leader promises to set them free if Tony builds them missiles. Tony smiles and shakes the leaders hand.

„No he's not.“ Tony says.

The Suit smiles too. „No, he's not.“

And that's all Tony needs to know.

That evening, the Suit walks up to where Tony sits. Tony hasn't moved a muscle since they'd been lead back into the cave. It's cold, his chest hurts and what's the point, if he's going to die anyway? He warms his hands at the fire that barely helps keep the cold at bay. The great Tony Stark. Playboy, Billionaire, Philanthropist, etc. Sexiest man alive for five years in a row. And he's going to die in a cave in Afghanistan. Just his luck.

The Suit walks up to the fire, squats down. „I'm sure they're looking for you, Stark. But they will never find you in these mountains.“

Great start. The Suit is just reinforcing that Tony isnt't getting rescued any time soon, if at all. No Rhodey barging in, guns blazing. Rhodey. _I swear, platypus, if you're dead I'm going to kill you!_

„Look, what you just saw, that is your legacy, Stark. Your life's work, in the hands of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out? Is this the last act of defiance of the great Tony Stark? Or are you going to do something about it?“ The Suit is insistent to get some reaction out of Tony.

He can't. He's done. He has a hole in his chest. Rhodey is probably dead. No one is looking for him, no one will miss him, what's the point?

„Why should I do anything? They're going to kill me, you, either way. And if they don't, I'll probably be dead in a week.“ He wants to be left alone, to wallow in his missery, _if you don't mind._ And if he's falling into a pit of self pity and despair, no one has to know, right?

But the Suit is having none of it. „Well then, this is a very important week for you, isn't it?“

Their capturers are thugs, pure and simple. Their leader even more so. He has Tony and the Suit under his thumb and relishes in the power he has over them. He delights in torturing Tony, mentally and physically, and believes himself intelligent enough to pull one over Tony fucking Stark.

The Suit could be a friend, an ally. He's here against his will but has kept some semblance of normalcy, kept up his spirits.

And Tony, has he really given up? Is he going to die here, surrounded by dirt, grime at the lowest point of his live? Is he going to die here, knowing that his weapons, the weapons he designed and made a shitload of money off, are used to arm these thugs?

He needs a plan. They need a plan.

_Siberia_

He jumps out of the helicopter, ducking against the wind and cold.

A man in black combat gear runs up to him. „Mr. Pierce, sir, we...“

„You lost the Asset, if I'm informed correctly?“ he snarls.

The man flinches. „Sir, we don't know what happened. One moment he was like always and then, we don't know what happened.“

„You have the words, you have guards and you still tell me he escaped?“

„Sir...“

„No. I don't want to hear your excuses. Once was enough, do you know how many men it took to get him back last time?“ Pierce still remembers. Two months and too many men. It took too long to rebuild the numbers the Asset disposed of. He made sure to wipe the Asset every time, before and after missions, after that.

He walks towards the building, nearly unrecognisable by the snow. More men in combat suits are running around like headless chicken. The whole base plunged in chaos. Pierce walks in and starts with orders. He's getting the Asset back, no matter the cost.

_Afghanistan_

Their cave is buzzing with activity. Men carrying boxes in, Tony ordering stuff he needs and the Suit just stands there, gobsmaked at Tony's impudence. The night of the big talk, where the Suit tried to talk Tony out of giving up seems to have worked. Tony is ordering the men around as if they are workes in one of his factories, not his capturers, torturers. The leader promised to get them everything they would need to build the Jericho.

They are busy over the next days. Well, Tony is, while the Suit watches him. After a while, the Suit helps under Tony's watchfull eye. The battery attached to his chest is too unwieldy to do lot's of things. If he was one of those people that talked about ...stuff, Tony would have told the Suit that he just couldn't live with himself, ha, or die in peace, knowing that his legacy, his weapons, were used to aid his capturers, torturers. A band of thugs that would do god knows what with the weapons. Not on Tony's watch. Dead or alive, doesn't matter. And he would thank him. For the pep talk. He'd needed that.

First order of business, get rid of the battery. Seriously, that thing isn't staying.

Second part of the plan, get out. And take the Suit with him.

It's easier, now that he's plotting. Ideas spring up, get discarded or built upon and by the end of the week he has the Arc Reactor, a huge thing back home, miniaturized. While working, and cannibalizing parts from rockets. At least the thugs wont use them anymore. They talked. Tony now knows the name of the Suit. Yinsen. And the name of the group that holds them hostage. The Ten Rings. Not much longer.

The Arc Reactor in his chest makes him mobile again. On to part two.

„That doesn't look like a Jericho Missile.“ Yinsen looks at the glowing piece of tech in Tonys chest.

Tony grins „That's because it's a miniaturised Arc Reactor. I got a big one powering my factory at home. It should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.“

„But what could it generate?“

„If my math is correct, and it always is, three gigajoules per second.“

Yinsen blinks. „That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes!“

„Yeah. Or something big for 15 minutes.“ Tony smirks and shows Yinsen a sheet of paper with something scribbled or sketched on it. It doesn't make sense. „That is our ticket out of here.“

„But what is it?“

Tony doesn't answer, instead he adds some more sheets, stacks them up and holds them against the light.

Yinsen gasps at seeing a bipedal figure, metal, armed and dangerous looking. It's just a sketch at the moment but if they can build this... „Impressive.“

They start building the armor the next day. It's not too hard, fooling the thugs. None of them seem to know what building a missile entails.

One evening, the armor is close to done, they sit at their table and play Backgammon. Every once in a while, they indulge in something simple. A cup of tea, some candles, Backgammon and talking. They talk and joke while shoving nuts and bolts around a self made board.

„So“ Tony starts while moving a piece around the board. „you still haven't told me where you're from.“

Yinsen looks up. „I'm from a small town called Gulmira. It's actually a nice place.“

„Got a family?“

„Yes, and I will see them when I leave here.“

Tony looks up, looks at Yinsen. He's staring into the room, wistful, not seeing their scraggly surroundings but something else.

„Your Soulmate?“

Yinsen smiles and sighs. It transforms his face, where before there was a man, holding on to something while in an impossible situation, holding onto hope like it's his last straw, now there's a man glowing with something. Longing, wishfulness transfers his face, he's looking sad, destroyed nearly.

„She'll be waiting for me.“ He says, after a long moment. „And you, Stark?“

Tony shifts, uncomfortable. The situation demands honesty. What has he to show for all his achievements? His parents are dead, he has no romantic relationship to speak off, one night stands and short flings, nothing special, nothing worthwile. He's not old, no, but at his age, most people already have their song. He doesn't have anything. Doesn't have a Soulmate. There it is. Out in the open... well, thought out loud... or something. For a while he thought there was something with Ti- no. He doesn't even want to think about that. Pepper. His lovely Pepper. She would have been a good... but no. She has her song, still looking for the other part. And Tony is alone.

„Nothing... no.“ he mutters.

Yinsen closes his eyes. „No? So you're a man who has everything... and nothing.“

It's true. He knows it. It's emptiness, nothing where there's supposed to be something. A song. His song.

The end comes fast. Another bigwig comes in, threatens Yinsen and gives them one more day. They finish working on the armor and start putting it around Tony. The program, because, really, no one can expect Tony to maneuver a suit of metal armor around, that's just... Well. The program takes a while to initialize, but when it's done will provide easy...er movement. In theory. Not that they could test it.

Tony escapes. Yinsen does not. The last thing Yinsen says to him is 'Don't waste it. Don't waste your life.' He'll never forget those words.

At least Rhodey is alive...

 


	6. The Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of CA:TWS. A little bit of smut at the end, be warned. If you don't want to read it, stop when the Asset is alone in it's room. It's... tame, at least imo, compared to other things I read on here ;)  
> Next, I kinda wanna include Tony in the next part, somehow, will see how that goes or if the Asset takes over while writing^^
> 
> Now, question for you. What do you think Bucky's song for Tony would be? Last chapter shows us that Tony doesn't have a song. I have Tony's song for Bucky, that's non negotiable :P I have some songs in mind for the other way around, but... It's not as set in stone ;) Recommend away, if you want.
> 
> Last, but not least. Thank you for reading, your Kudos, your comments. <3

_2016_

It stands in the corner, muscles still twitching from the last recalibration. The room is filled with people. The strike team. New mission.

They are chatting with each other, ignoring the Asset which is fine, it prefers to be ignored. It can listen to it's song while the men are talking. Ignorant of the one secret the Asset never let's slip, no matter how often it gets recalibrated or asked to report. Something prevents it to give it's secret up. It's not like the handlers suspect anything of the sort at all. They're so gullible. The Asset would snort and huff about the weak men that are so sure of themselves.

Few people are prepared to deal with the Asset. Only the handler and the guards responsible for getting it in and out of the _cold, freezing, black, cold, hurts, don't!_ are somewhat safe. It knows the words are there to protect the handler and guards from it. It understands. It is a weapon. The Fist of Hydra. There have to be security meassueres. The other important thing is to keep the Asset in working conditions. Recalibration, maintenance, sustenance, programming.

Recalibration and maintenance for such times when the Asset isn't working properly. An error in the programming, for example. Or a malfunction in it's arm. It's unpleasant but necessary all the same.

Sustenance is hard. Helped with it's programming, it's manageable though. It's sense of time is non existant. It understands the workings of time, certainly. Day and night. Weeks. Months. Years. They are words, detailing the passing of time. The day and night cycle marks the passing of one day. Seven day and night cycles is a week and so forth. Important for time sensitive missions. It does understand that much, but it's sense of time is gone, there is no meassure for it. It's body needs sustenance, though. At regular intervals, if the mission is taking longer than three days.

Standard procedure demands sustenance to be given to the Asset before a mission and after. Before putting it away in the tube and after taking it out. Never! Never give sustenance before recalibration though. The malfunction it experiences after that are unpleasant and the handlers don't like it which leads to punishment. The Asset knows to wait a short while before taking sustenance. It's been programmed to avoid punishment if at all possible. So, time. Time has no meaning to the Asset. Except for in mission parameters and for sustenance.

It has beem programmed to ignore it's bodies failings. As a result it ignores hunger or pain. Doesn't feel the need to take sustenance. It has to take care of wounds though. A broken arm or leg, for example, can lead to mission failure which is unacceptable and leads to punishment which is to be avoided.

It's programming get's updated. New technology, new weapons, the Asset has to be familiar with everything it can expect on a mission. Alarm systems, cell phones, cameras, it has to know everything about them, how they work, how to handle them. The handler takes care of updating the programming.

It's...

The room. It's too quiet. The Assets eyes focus on the room. The men are whispering to each other and look at it with frowns on their faces.

„Did... Did he just HUM???“ one asks exasperated.

„Let him live a little.“ another drawls. „We all know what's ahead of him.“ The man leers at the Asset.

It stares back at the dark haired man, doesn't blink and waits. It doesn't take long for the man to cough awkwardly and look away.

The other men in the room start to whistle and cheer.

„Seriously, Rumlow? A little murder stare from the Asset has your panties in a twist?“ one sneers.

The man, Rumlow, curses. „Shut the fuck up. Remember, what... '07? '08?“

The room goes quiet.

„Thought so.“ Rumlow sneers.

Chickenshits. All of them.

_Washington_

One Hydra team is out, trying to get to the target. The Asset waits. It's chaos, the team has run into problems, the target fights back. The handler warned about that. The team failed.

„Asset, engage.“

Information about the targets whereabouts come in through the comm unit. Black SUV, heading down the street, badly damaged. Target still alive, resisting any means deployed so far.

It doesn't matter. The Asset walks up on the street and cocks it's weapon. Aims. Pulls the trigger. Steps aside to let the now airborne car through.

The Asset walks up to the car, flipped over and smoking. It rips out the door and looks in.

„Target lost.“

„Repeat, Asset.“

„Target lost.“

„Proceed to extraction point.“

__

They tracked the target to an appartment. The Asset is in position. It can see someone walking up to the target, talking with the target. The target is out of sight, evading the windows at all costs. The Asset studies the other mans movements, how his face is turning and moving. He's looking at the target, the target crouches or sits somwhere. The mans head moves up. The target stood up. Now.

Three shots out of the Assets weapon pierce the wall. The Asset waits. The man takes action and pulls the target away from the outer wall, behind another in the appartment. The comm unit crackles.

„Mission complete, proceed to extraction point.“

That's all the Asset needs. He turns and starts running. Somewhere behind, below it, glass crashes. Someone is chasing it.

It jumps from one roof to another, lands with a roll and runs on. Someone behind it. A whistling sound.

It turns and catches the disc with it's metal arm.

For a short moment the Asset and the man stare at each other. The man doesn't look worse for wear after crashing through glass and parts of a building, the Asset has to give him that. With a flick of the arm it throws the disc back at the man and turns, jumps from the building and vanishes. It was never there. Except... The man saw it. Report.

Back at base it's chaos. Men running around, shouting at each other, pushing each other out of the way to rush to some point or another.

The Asset is put in a room, ordered to wait after removing every weapon from it's many hiding spots.

It complies, of course. Avoid punishment. Comply.

It's left alone and that... is new? What... is it supposed to... do? It's always had a mission and after that it's _pain, white, hot!_ and then _cold, freezing, dark._ New mission? But no one ordered it to do anything. There has to be a reason for it to still be here, to still be _alive, something, some...one?_

It stands in the middle of the room, unmoving, eyes straight ahead. Loosing itself in it's thoughts, it's song. It's never had the chance to listen to it's song uninterrupted, without someone watching it or some mission to take precedence and drown out the song partially.

It would like to know about the song. It's meaning in it's head. But asking about it wouldn't help. It knows. They would take it away from the Asset in a heartbeat and that is to be avoided at all costs. Even surpasses the importance to avoid punishment. It would take any punishment to keep the song safe.

It sighs and follows the notes of the song. Higher notes, deeper. It's muscles relax, shoulders slouch. It is alone for the first time. No voices ordering it around, no punishments, no recalibrations, no nothing.

It just is and that is... exhilarating.

It sighs again and a shiver goes through it's body. It's all alone and...

It's head drops back and it let's out a groan. All alone except for it's song. It's... _What? My what?_

_Mate._

_No! Nonono. Not allowed! Punishment, recalibration, nonono!_

But it's alone, no one here to witness it, suspect intrusive thoughts so... _why not?_

It's hand moves on it's own, shaking, touching it's face. No one touches the Asset. Why would they? It's a weapon, the Fist of Hydra. No one would touch it like that.

_A mate would._

Would they, though? Could they look past the weapon and see the... thing _no, person!_ behind the weapon?

It shakes, bad, now. Imagines hands touching it's body. They're warm. Soft touches, loving touches.They slowly trace the front of it's body, from it's chest down to the hard muscles of it's stomach and lower, to where it wants, no, needs to be touched, right now!

The Asset's breathing is harsh as it touches it's skin above the waistline of it's pants. Let's the hand slip in, lower, lower to where the pants are feeling too restrictive to be comfortable. Imagines someone elses hand exploring the hardness. It closes it's eyes at first touch.

_Come on, come on, pants down, soldier! I need your dick in my mouth, like yesterday!_

It's knees are shaking and it takes a few steps back to lean on the wall. It feels so good, to touch. It's... _hurry up before someone comes around! Come on, pants down!_

It fumbles with the buttons and zippers on it's pants, pushes them down. It needs to touch, feel calloused hands around it's dick. Want's more. Needs more. Now! Exploring touches aren't enough!

It's never experienced something like that, not that it can remember anything at least. It feels so good. It's hand curls around and slides along, and the Asset has to put it's metal hand infront of it's mouth to suppress a shout and...

_Prepare to be blown away, pretty boy._

It's hand is slowly moving up and down along it's dick and it wants to sob at the thought of warm, soft lips around it. The tongue would play with it's tip and it would be soft, warm, wet, the Assets hands grabbing at hair, holding on for dear life and a groan would slip, vibrating along it's dick and...

_White, hot, pleasure, blind, yesyesyesyes!_

 


	7. Last straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, little warning. I don't know about new updates from now on. I was on vacation and had time on my hands for writing and stuff and... Well, works starting again so new updates will probably be slower. But this story will be finished. Promise :)  
> Thanks, again and always, for reading, commenting, Kudos <3  
> Oh and... Question still stands from last chapter. Music? anyone? Bucky's song for Tony.  
> Andand! If I never have to see Bucky in the chair again, it will be too soon T_T Poor thing (talking, ofc, of the one scene in TWS, broke my dark shriveled heart into tiny little pieces T_T).

_New York_

Music is blaring through the workshop. A long time ago, he decided to make up for the silence with obnoxiously loud music. He doesn't need pity, outside music has it's advantages.

For one, he chooses what music he listens to.

Second, it's not only one song or melody but many. He has his favourites, of course, but he can choose between so many.

Third, well... He'll come up with something eventually.

„J, remind me to find point three.“ he calls out while ellbow deep in one of his fancy cars. He's living the life!

„ _Of course, sir. Do you want to set a reminder?“_ JARVIS' answers and he'll be damned if it doesn't sound as if JARVIS is suppressing a chuckle there.

„No need, J. Just...“

„ _Sir, you might want to see this.“_

„Huh?“ Tony looks up at the screen projected by JARVIS.

„ _It seems Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are having some problems in DC.“_

„No shit sherlock.“ Tony mutters and extracts his arms from the engine. The screen shows aerial footage of carnage. Destroyed cars, black clad men shooting and Cap and the Widow right in the middle of it. Tony grabs a rag and rubs his hands. The oil and grease on his hands win. „Anymore info on who or what is happening, J?“

„ _Nothing so far, sir.“_

„Well, time to go to DC and see for ourselves, right? Ready the suit.“

„ _Of course, sir. Do you... Sir, there's a call for you.“_

„Who is it?“

„ _An unknown number, shall I put them through?“_

„Might as well, J. Hello, you have reached Tony Stark. He's busy at the moment so... Eh. I'll think of something later, I suppose. Beep!“

A sigh from the speakers makes him smirk. „STARK!“

„If that isn't the voice of our favourite pirate... Little busy here, old one eye. Your boy Rogers seems to have something go...“

„I know. And you're not busy with anything right now, but will be as soon as I'm hanging up.“ Fury's voice rasps out. „Stop prepping your suit and hack SHIELD.“

„I'll have you knoWHAT?“ he stops in his tracks and shakes his head. Did he hear that right? The cyclops wants him, Tony Stark, to hack into SHIELD? „J, buddy, light of my life, I need you to do a full body scan. I'm afraid I'm having a stroke or something.“

„ _Scanning now, sir.“_

„Stark! Listen, for fucks sake. SHIELD has been compromised and we need to find out how deep it goes, and since Romanoff is prepared to dump everything on the internet in about sixteen hours, I need it yesterday. Name and place of our undercover agents so they can relocate. If you can manage, only of the ones that aren't HYDRA and yes, I know you can do that since you and your AI buddy have hacked into our database before, don't try anything here!“

„You want fries with that?“

Stunned silence.

„ _Sir, scans are showing nothing out of the ordinary.“_

„Just... Do it Stark? ...Please?“

„Do we have a recording for that? Please tell me you recorded that Jarvis!“

„STARK!!“

„Already working on it, jeez. Won't be easy, but I'll do what I can, now hush, crawl back in your spy-hole and do spy things and let me work. Cut it J.“

The call drops at some impressive curses from Fury's side and Tony moves his head from side to side and back, something cracks in his neck.

„Right, you heard the man. Personal information of anything and everything, and while we're at it, save everything that seems remotely interesting to my private server. Let's get cracking, music!“ he sits down at his workstation and starts typing while music once again starts blaring out of every speaker. Fucking Hydra.

_Washington_

It hurts. The Asset sits on it's chair, someone working on the damaged arm. The arm the man had slammed his shield in. The man that fought him. The man that survived and. The man that knew the Asset.

They'd been fighting, exchanging blows that a normal human being wouldn't walk off too easy and the man... _Small, angry and ready to fight!_ The man knew it? What! No one knows the Asset and calls it names. No one. Only the Asset. But why... _Jerk!_ He called him Bucky. What!

It hurts. Not the arm. Not really. Inside it hurts. In it's head.

_A man, small, with a high voice talks to him, 'Sargeant Barnes.' He smiles._

It's body jolts upright, it's head turns toward the man working on it's arm.

_A train. The man from the bridge, looking at him, shouting. He falls. 'BUCKY! NO!“_

It shakes it's head.

_Snow, cold. Someone drags him through the snow. The small man's voice 'The procedure has already started.' He has a german accent._

_Some electrical thing, a saw, whines. They cut in his arm, the remains of the mangled flesh that is his arm._

It snarls at the man working on it's arm.

_He's lying on a stretcher, looking at the new arm. Someone walks up to him with a clipboard, inspects the arm. He grabs the man and chokes him. 'You are to be the new Fist of Hydra.' The german says._

_He watches the men through round glass. 'Put him on ice.' The germans voice. Something hisses and it get's cold. Freezing. No. He holds out the metal arm, trying to..._

A fast move with it's left arm sends the technician flying. Gun's are trained on the Asset in a matter of seconds. Comply.

It know the man on the bridge. It needs time. Someone to tell it what to do with this information. Someone to tell it that, yes, it know the man because what it remembers, what he remembers is a smaller man, but still this same man. And if it, if he knows the man... Then...

„Mission report.“

Then, can it be that it is... It is not the Asset but it, he is Bucky? Or is the man...

„Mission report, now!“

Or is the man mistaken? Doesn't know him, it, just thinks he knows it?

A slap across it's face brings it back to the here and now. The handler. It will get answers now.

„The man on the bridge.“ _Blond, blue eyes, little punk._ „Who was he?“

_I know him, I know that I know him, please! Tell me I know him._

The handler thinks for a moment. „You met him earlier this week on another assignment.“

_Nononono, that's not right. That's... It's... I know him!_

„I knew him.“ _Please, tell me I knew him, I'm going crazy! I need to... Please!!_

The handler looks concerned and sits down infront of the Asset. It will get it's answers now. Please.

„Your work has been a gift to mankind.“ the handler says and it wants to bang it's head on the chair. „You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos, tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But, if you don't do your part, I can't do mine. And Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves.“ The answer, the things the handler says are all... wrong. Not answers. It needs to...

„But I knew him.“ It's voice breaks saying it. Confirm. Please!

The handler sighs and get's up. „Prep him.“

One of the technicians shuffles his feet. „He's... been out of cryo freeze too long.“

„Then wipe him and start over.“

_Nonono, don't take it away. Please!_

The room is silent, everyone is watching as the Asset gets pushed back into the chair. It knows what's coming and it's breathing picks up. Panic. Always. Before it starts. Metal cuffs close around it's arms, the chair jolts it in position. It licks it's lips and opens it's mouth, a piece of plastic get's shoved in. It bites down, trying to calm. It's not breathing right, too deep, it's chest moving up and down with each panicked breath.

It groans as the arms of the machine behind the chair move. Blue lightning runs along the plates that will soon wash away everything it knows. _Please, don't!_ The arms place the plates clos to it's face, it's head, specific spots, where the lightning will recallibrate everything, wipe all the Asset is right now and leave the empty shell it needs to be to function properly for the handler.

Black spots infront of it's eyes, it's breathing is too erratic, it needs to calm down but... can't. They'll take everything. The man, the name, Bucky, the... memories. It's song. A tear slowly runs down the Assets cheek. A crackle and the machine starts. Pain. It howls. Everything is going. Goes. Is gone. All of it. White.

A womans voice, singing. The Asset listens.

 

A new mission.

Hydra is reshaping the world. To do that, three Helicarriers will be launched to take out all Hydras enemies. It will be a new dawn for mankind. The Asset is deployed to make sure no one stops them.

New mission. Three pictures. A red haired woman. A dark skinned man. A blond man. Prevent targets to mess with the Helicarriers.

The red haired is nowhere to be found. The other man has wings and is dealt with. The next...

It is waiting for the last man. The blond.

It stands at the control pad of the last carrier. Waits.

The man runs up to it and stops. Looks at the Asset.

„People are gonna die, Buck.“ he says. He has a disc, no a shield with him. Familiar somehow. „I can't let that happen.“

The man looks at the Asset, pleading. The Asset stares back. „Please don't make me do this.“ The mans voice cracks.

It doesn't move, doesn't blink. The man steels himself and throws the shield.

They fight. The Asset tries to keep the man from accessing the control pad. He already fumbled with a chip, took it out. Has another to slot into the empty space. The Asset can't let that happen.

They fall. Fight. The Asset shoots the man, the man hides behind his shield.

The Asset has the control chip.

The man breaks it's arm holding the chip. Chokes the Asset. Everything goes black.

It comes to and watches as the man climbs towards the control pad again. It pulls out a pistol and aims. The first shot hits the man's leg. The next misses. The thrid hits the man in the back. Mission complete.

Is it?

The Helicarrier shudders. It's under attack. The Asset runs. A screeching sound and something pins the Asset to the ground. It's stuck and the carrier is going to come down. Crash into the Potomac. And the Asset is stuck.

Footsteps. Someone is running towards it. The man. He's still alive. Mission not complete.

The target grabs the metal pinning down the Asset. Pulls. Manages to lift it and the Asset can slip out.

„You know me.“ the man pants.

The Asset lashes out, hits with it's metal arm. „No I don't!“

_Can't know the man, that would... No!_

The Helicarrier is crashing down fast. They get up, panting.

„Bucky.“ Blood on the mans uniform. It's a wonder he's still standing. „You've known me your whole life.“

The Asset lashes out, right arm pressed against it's stomach, left arm hitting the man.

„Your name“ the man gets up again. „Is James Buchanan Barnes.“

 _Nononono_ „Shut up!“ _Can't have a name. It's nothing. No one. The Asset. Nothing more._ It hits the man, on his raised shield. The man falls down, the Asset doubles over.

The man stands up, removes his helmet. „I'm not gonna fight you.“ and drops his shield through the cracks in the glass floor. It tumbles down, down, down... „You're my friend.“

They look at each other. Friend. No. Mission.

The Asset screams and lunges forward, pushing the man back, down. „You're my mission!“ It snarls and hits the man. Metal fist to his face. Over and over again.

_Can't be. No. No friend. No name. Just Asset. A weapon._

It pulls back it's arm for one last punch.

„Then finish it.“ the man slurs, face bloody. „Cause I'm with you, to the end of the line.“

_To the end of the line. Small, angry, ready to fight. Small boy. Jerk. Punk. What..._

Something crashes onto the glass floor. The glass breaks. The man, _small, big, wrong, all wrong_ , falls. Falls.

The Asset holds onto a beam, watches the man fall. He falls. The man. Not the Asset. But.

Deep down, the water swallows the man. _To the end of the line. You're my friend. You know me._

Does it?

It let's go and falls. _Save him_. Hits the water, dives down, looks. Panic. Where is he? Where... There. Red and white and blue. It grabs the man and pulls him up. _Save him._ _He... knows me._

It pulls the man out of the water, watches as water pours from his mouth and he starts breathing.

_Investigate. But not here. Not now. I'll... find you. Need to..._

It leaves. Someone will find the man. The Asset has to leave. Go. Now. Before his handlers or guards or anyone can get to him. He has to... It... He. Needs to go before anyone can catch him, again. Use words that make everything go away. Use the chair and pain to... What? Make it, make him nothing.

_Washington, later_

He storms into the room and looks at the man in the hospital bed.

„Well, don't you look like death warmed over.“

The man in the bed groans. „Thanks. Not every day you get to take a bath after getting punched and SHOT AT by your best friend. You know how it is...“

„Yeah, gonna talk about that once you're better. I'm only here cause, you know... Your appartment is all shot up and stuff and... SHIELD is no more and... Well, you know, Nat and Katniss already agreed to come over and the Big Guy is there too so...“

„You're rambling, Stark.“ the man grins.

„I'm just saying, Cap, if you're looking for a place to stay... Offer still stands. Just... Come on over and look at the place and... You know. Stay or don't or whatever.“

 


	8. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we are. Off to a rocky start for all involved. But it gets better, promise.  
> Kudos and Comments feed my poor insecure heart, so... tell me if you like, k? ;)  
> Thanks for reading <3  
> Oh, should probably mention that I never watched CA:CW. Just can't bring myself to do it >_< Age of Ultron was bad enough. Maybe one day... So, every interaction between Bucky and others is all me. All my twisted mind coming up with stuff (and it's in the tags, so there^^).

_**Now** _

  


_Ukraine_

He's moving through the crowds, always staying in the shadows. He's been here too long, in this tiny town, but. He's waiting. For what, he doesn't know. For Hydra to show up and catch him? Make him nothing again. Erase everything he's clawed together during the year he's been on the run.

He stops at one of the market stalls selling produce. Talks to the man behind it. Smiles. It's all wrong. He waits for something to happen. From the outside, he looks like everyone else. A man, shopping on market day. On the inside, he's tense. Every sense of his sharp, eyes flickering over the crowds seeing everything, everyone.

Maybe someone else is going to find him first. The man that has been following his every move, arriving too late to catch him, always one step behind him. He knows the man. Has snippets from newspapers back at his hovel, a little abandonned house on the outskirts of the town. No electricity, no running water, but it's his. For the moment at least.

Steve Rogers. Some days, he thinks he remembers him. A small boy, sickly, blond, always ready to show someone bigger than himself that he's nothing but a bully.

Or something. He's not too sure. Not sure of anything. It could be something Hydra did to him. Some implanted memory or just his mind trying desperately to cling to something eerily familiar. Truth is, everything is fucked at the moment. The whole situation. He's been on the run for long. A year if his math can be trusted but he wouldn't trust anything his mind comes up with so...

Today, at least, was a good day. He didn't wake up screaming and didn't imagine to be kneeling on a cold floor just out of the tube. It didn't take long for him to spread out all his belongings infront of him. Newspaper clippings, pages torn out from books at some library. Pictures of himself. Of Steve. Of both of them together. He'd visited a museum before leaving the country. America. It's hard to think about the first days, after the fight on the Helicarrier, after everything that happened. But he had to leave. Hydra was too close, the man, Steve, was too close. He just couldn't face him. Not like this. Not as the Asset.

It took him a while, but right now, right here, it's as far away as he's ever been from the first days. He'd been about to starve, a few weeks in his run to freedom. The Asset doesn't eat. It just takes sustenance and that is always provided by it's handlers. Lucky for him though, some nice soul helped him. Where was that again? He can't remember. What he remembers is his reaction to solid food though. He was stuffing himself with everything and 'experienced a malfunction', as his handlers would call it.

By now, his body can handle solid foods better. Not too greasy, please. Vegetables and fruits prefered for the moment but... He's dreaming of the day where he can lay his hands on a burger or a steak. Thoughts for later. No use in thinking of something too out of his reach for now. Not only isn't he sure if his body can take it, no, money plays a role too. It's not too easy to get, and... well, stealing isn't exactly a good thing. Especially not if he gets caught or something. So he helps out on farms, begs occasionally and gets through his days. If there's no food some days or for a week, he's been trained to ignore his body. It's not perfect, but it's not Hydra. And that's what counts. They take everything and warp it into something he doesn't want to be. Never again.

He buys some apples and a loaf of bread and that, his mouth always waters at the smell of fresh bread. He wants to rip into it but... not yet. He has to get out, get home. He's been out too long. Someone could already be on his trail. If he could only be sure who...

He walks. Slow. Listens for footsteps and takes his time to get to his place. He's always taking a new route, walking the narrow streets, hiding in entrances, vanishing behind corners. Always suspicious of his surroundings. Today seems like none other. Except.

Something. A tickling on his back. Someone is following him.

He turns a corner and slips through an open doorway into the entrance hall of some appartment building. Waits. Listens. Nothing.

He scoffs at himself. Paranoid. Just as he's about to leave again, a man runs past. Could be coincidence but. He's sure it's not. It's been far too quiet for too long, in the end. It's been... a good long while since he suspected anyone following him. Since he took out the last group of Hydra goons sent his way. A good long while. And if it's not Hydra, he'll find out soon enough.

After some time he gets going. He switches out his hoodie for a jacket, hides his hair under a cap and starts walking straight for his place. No use in delaying the unavoidable.

He reaches his place and scans the surroundings. Nothing moves. So they're already inside. _Investigate._ A few breaths, and he is calm. Training taking over. He has a knife and a gun with six bullets. If theres more in there, he has to improvise. Wouldn't be the first time. He opens the door and walks in.

What do you say to the man you think looks familiar, you know his name but is it from memory or from various newspapers and an exhibition in a museum?

The man, Steve, looks at him expectantly, as if Steve expects him to aknowledge him. Say, yes. I know you. You're Steve, my... what? Is he a friend or a plot from Hydra?

„You know,“ he rasps out, voice gravely from disuse. „it's rude to just drop in and let yourself in uninvited?“

The man winces but he doesn't care. It **is** rude. „Buck...“

„What do you want?“ Was that rude? Does he care? CAN he allow himself to care? What if...

„I...“ the man, _no, fuck, Steve, you know his name is Steve, use his name for fucks sake! c_ lears his throat. „You look... good.“

He snorts. He knows how he looks. Too thin, because his eating is still too irregular. Ratty. No other word for it. His clothes have seen better days. „Living the life.“ he smirks and walks past Steve. What does Steve want? Why is he here?

„So,“ he drawls and pulls out the bread. He's hungry and he's going to eat, no matter what Steve is going to say or do. He rips of a good chunk and takes a bite. „again, what do you want?“

Steve steels himself for his next words. „I'm here to take you home.“

„And what makes you think I want to come with you? I'm not even sure I know you and I'm supposed to just what, follow you to wherever you think I belong? That's not how it works...“

„We've known each other for ages. Since we were kids, Bucky.“

„That so? You may remember that, I don't. For one, you should be... smaller. I think. I don't know, okay? So, stop following me wherever I go and... just stop.“

Steves face lights up. „You remember me.“

„I don't. Flashes. Most of the time it's me with a gun or a knife and lots of blood.“

Steve shudders at that.

„Yeah. And sometimes I remember a small guy looking for trouble. There's... I can't. I can't deal with that.“

And it's the truth, isn't it? He's been running from everything. Doesn't look back, because what he sees there isn't pretty.

„I... We can help you, Bucky.“ Steve takes a step forward.

„Stop calling me that.“ There's nothing behind the words. He's too tired. Tired of running. Tired of looking over his shoulder all the time. His voice is quiet when he says „The man you knew as Bucky is dead, Steve. The sooner you realise that, the better.“

Something shifts in Steve. „Well, you're doing a great job at being dead then. At least the way you look matches with being dead, huh?“

He shakes his head. „Always the stubborn one, aren't you.“

The smile on Steves face could light up a room „Jerk.“

It doesn't take too much coaxing from Steve to get him onto the 'Quinjet', whatever that is. It flies. It's fast. Better than planes. If Sam, the one with the wings from the Helicarrier debacle, is to be believed. He doesn't care. Sit's down and closes his eyes and just stops everything to listen to his song. It's the only thing he's sure about and the only comfort he's had for too long now. It has to be enough. Let Steve do what he wants, he'll find out soon enough that he's making a big mistake in taking him in.

  


_New York_

He's not nervous. Seriously, he's not. And he's totally not running around the workshop, muttering to himself. Nope.

JARVIS would disagree, of course, but no one's asking him, so there.

It's just. Barnes. They'll be back today. Not long now. About, he looks at his watch, yup, about 30 minutes. In about 30 minutes, the best friend of Captain America, buddies with Steve Rogers since they were kids, soldier, brainwashed Assassin and the one who killed his parents! will walk through this door. With Steve. And maybe the other one, Sam. Bridbrain 2.0. And Tony is not sure what to think about that at all.

His parents death. Everything pointed to an accident but all the files he's recovered from SHIELD/Hydra and then some from raided Hydra bases on the look out for Barnes, showed that it was the Winter Soldier. Just before he defected for the first time.

'That wasn't Bucky, Tony. He's been brainwashed. It's not his fault!'

And with all Tony's read about the 'treatment' of the Asset/Winter Soldier, he would agree. Still. His parents. No. His mom. Howard... well. But his mom. It's hard to look away from that.

He helped, of course. Spent most of his free time and JARVIS' snoop powers to look for Barnes. Because Steve, with his puppy dog eyes (seriously, he should trademark them) just... Well, let's just say it's hard to say no to that. And Tony really doesn't have to spend time with Barnes, does he? He's Steve's buddy, Steve will take care of him. And Tony will stay as faaar away from him as possible. While still staying in the same building. Yup. Good plan. Definitely not gonna blow in his face. Nope.

„ _Sir, Captain Rogers and Sargeant Barnes have entered the building.“_

„Thanks, J, keep me updated.“

„ _Of course, sir.“_

How did he get himself into this, this clusterfuck with assassins and soldiers from the '40s and aliens and a big green rage beast again? Right. Iron Man. _And you had to invite all of them to live with you, what did you expect?_

He tries to concentrate on his work but nothing is working out right today. The new version of the StarkPhone is just not cooperating as it should and everything is too much. He's just waiting for them to come down to the workshop and get it over with. Handshake, hi, be well, don't kill me, bye. Doesn't even need to be a handshake, right? He's a busy man, after all.

„ _Sir, Captain Rogers and Sargeant Barnes are in the elevator, heading for this floor.“_

„Right. Thanks. Let's give them a show, huh? Music, screens, the whole shebang.“ he waves his hands as music starts pounding out of the speakers. They'll not stay too long. Hopefully.

A moment later the door opens and Steve struts in with a hesitant Barnes in tow.

„Hey, Tony“

The music blares on.

„TONY!“

He doesn't turn around, just waves his hand above his head to signal JARVIS to turn the music down. „What's up, buttercup?“

„Uh, I'm back? And I wanted you to meet Bucky.“

Tony turns around. „That was today? JARVIS! Why didn't you remind me?“

„ _I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't think of it.“_

„Seems you need an upgrade, buddy. So“ he adresses the two men standing at the door. „huh, what do you say? Welcome home? Welcome to New York? I don't know, don't care, honestly. Make yourself at home and stuff, I'm busy. Thanks. See ya!“

„Tony!“

He smirks at Steves expression. „Busy, Cap. Take your pal and, dunno, hold hands or something. I'm busy. Someone around here has to earn the money to keep you all fed and with a roof over your head, so shoo!“ With that said, he turns around, tweaks something on one of the screens hoping Cap gets the picture and beats it. Like, right now. And takes tall, dark and broody with him.

 


	9. Three weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so... For those reading comments, writing them etc. Just a PSA from me to you^^  
> I'm not hating on Steve. Really not. I love me a good Stony fic, sometimes even Stucky or Stuckony. I'm just not fine with Steve followers hating on me or my opinion because I'm on TT (Team Tony, it's a thing now, damn it^^). Talking about MCU stuff, obvs.  
> Especially since it seems that Steve is having his hands full with (not)Bucky and Tony for a good long while. Maybe. Will see how writing goes on^^ Tags say this fic is a work in progress and since it's also my first foray into fandom, writing something like that, etc. I hope the tag 'WIP, be warned' is heeded and that it can go wherever. When I started this fic, for example, I never thought of making things hard for Steve, it just seemed... right? I don't know.  
> And now, that I lightened my insecure heart a little :P  
> Thank you guys, for reading, Kudos and all your lovely comments.  
> (Sorry for rambling here, I'm sleep deprived and had a day filled with family and lot's of... talking, feelings etc. Work starting up again tomorrow and that will be fun too. Updates slower from now on. Maybe. I don't know 'shrugs')

Three weeks. If the bodyless voice from the ceiling is to believed, he's been in the tower for three weeks. And it's the same, day in, day out.

He'd wake up at 5, 5:30 at the latest and start the routine.

He'd get out of the walk-in closet where he slept and muss up the bed to placate anyone coming in. No one had to know that he freaked out the first night, lying in that too soft bed, trying to get his breathing under control. Too much. Too much space around him, the matress too soft, too many windows, too much. So, after getting up and looking for a semi secure spot he'd decided on the closet and could at least catch some hours of sleep each night.

After the bed, he'd get into the bathroom without switching on the light. He didn't need to see himself in the mirror, thank you. He knows he looks like shit. The shower is nice though. He'd have to thank Steve, one day, for telling him, with not too subtle hints that he smelled a 'bit rank, no problem though, just... you know, shower once in a while, Buck?' The shower, definitely a plus in his books. All the hot water he'd ever need to wash away the cold.

After that, and after getting into some clothes, that probably belonged to Steve, he waited. Around six, Steve would knock on the door and ask if he was awake and, after he confirmed, would tell him breakfast would be ready in five.

Time. The enemy. Five what? Apples, oranges, minutes, hours, weeks. Probably minutes, but would it kill Steve to confirm that? Time is hard enough as it is, no need to confuse him further, thank you very much.

After breakfast, Steve would ask if 'Bucky' wanted to go on a run with him. Always. Rain or shine. 'Bucky' doesn't run though, so Steve has to run alone. And 'Bucky' just wants to get this over with, get back to _back to what? Running from shadows, never knowing when THEY get to me, never knowing where the next meal is coming from?_ He doesn't know but the thing with Steve isn't _IT_ either.

Steve likes to talk. About their childhood in Brooklyn. About the war. About 'Bucky'. Sometimes Sam joins and offers to talk to 'Bucky' alone. Everyone wants to talk. 'Bucky' wants to crawl back into the closet, thank you very much.

But he plays along because Steve is a force to be reckoned with. It's easier to play along. He doesn't listen though. No one can force him to listen. He listens to his song and turns a deaf ear to Steves memories. It's easier not to remember. Hurts less. He's fine. He functions, he showers, eats and sleeps. What else does he need to do, why does he need to remember everything he's been forced to do? Forced. Did they? Force him? They told him to do something and he did it. Didn't even think of refusing. Most of the time. Right? So was he really forced to do something or did he just follow orders like the good little Asset he was. Still is. Still wants to be, sometimes, in the dark of night when his breath is coming too fast and his heart wants to beat itself out of his chest. It was easier, no one expected him to care for himself. They told him what to do and he did it. They didn't expect him to talk, just to function and do as he was told. He doesn't want to remember 'before'. Doesn't want to look back at things he has lost, who he was.

It hurts and sometimes he wants to scream at Steve. Wants him to stop trying to jolt another painful memory of 'before', that inevitably let's other memories to the surface. Memories of the Asset and his targets. He doesn't remember much, but enough. Every memory pales in comparison to the memories of the Asset.

He should probably warn someone (Steve) about his words. He can't say them, doesn't think he can write them down and even if he could, they would be russian so that wouldn't help anyone. Something to think about for another day. The tower is like a fortress, he found out. The ceiling voice (' _JARVIS, sir.'_ ) is everywhere and aparently sees everything. He has a deal with JARVIS, the voice will not rat him out to Steve, will not tell him about the closet, for one, and keeps other things to himself too, so that's nice. And JARVIS isn't intruding like some other people (Steve) when he just wants to be, nothing more. Sam seems to get the picture, sometimes. He coaxes Steve out for 'Team bonding' and 'Movie nights' sometimes so 'Bucky' can get some rest.

He creeps around the tower some nights. Always in the shadows, mapping out everything. Every room, every window, every exit, every weak point. The first time he did it, Jarvis asked if he could help him but, again, they made a deal. 'Bucky' doesn't do anything but creep and stalk out his points and JARVIS doesn't rat him out to Steve. He comes to like JARVIS, especially since he agreed to not call him Sargeant Barnes anymore. Sir should suffice for now. And if not, he grudgingly allowed JARVIS to use Mr. Barnes. But only in case Sir isn't enough.

Sometimes he sneaks out of his room without Steve noticing and that's kinda funny, if he's honest with himself. Especially when JARVIS projects a _fucking floating screen_ infront of him with Steve's reactions.

Ah, the team. He hasn't seen any of them yet. Doesn't want to. Doesn't need to. He knows of them and that's enough.

Except.

Tony. He's met Tony on his first day. 'He's rude, takes nothing seriously and doesn't follow orders. But he's okay, once you get to know him, Buck. You'll see.'

Meeting Tony had been strange. Steve led him into a strange room full of electric things, with blue screens fanned all around him and loud music(?) pounding out of every speaker. Tony was... not what he expected. What he said, how he said it was one thing. His body language another. His words were all casual, his body was tense. And if 'Bucky' suppressed a smirk while Steve groused on and on about rude geniuses, that was his secret.

And it's not that he doesn't like Steve or something. He seems to be alright just, too much. Steve looks for something that isn't there. And 'Bucky' can't get over the feeling of wrong that surrounds Steve because what he remembers is a small kid and not a big man with muscles, so there's that.

So yeah, he had a routine going, Steve talked at him and Sam looked conflicted about something and JARVIS was a good guy, ceiling voice, whatever.

 

* * *

  


Tony was just coming out of the workshop when Steve assaulted him. He knew he should have stayed down there, but his coffee supply had run out so he was _just on a coffee run, Steve, seriously._

„You what?“ he can't believe it. Three weeks. Tall, dark with murder in his eyes was in his tower for three weeks and Steve has lost him. Again. Apparently it isn't the first time that he can't find his BFF. Seriously.

„Don't worry, everything is under control. He's just... confused, sometimes. I'll find him and take him back to my floor. No problem.“ Steve pants and looks past Tony with wild eyes.

„So“ Tony hisses with a sharp smile. „you're telling me that a brainwashed Hydra agent is running wild in my tower and that I don't have to worry? That he's confused?“

„Don't say that! He's just having a hard time to adjust, is all. He's getting better.“ Steve is all righteous indignation at Tony's outburst.

„Seriously?!“ Tony huffs and pulls out his phone that's been buzzing for a while now. Looks down and....

**< From Jarvis>**

_Mr. Barnes is hiding from Captain Rogers_

_and expresses his hope that Sir please_

_don't 'rat' him out. Pretty please._

Tony oggles his phone for a second. That's... new? „Seriously?“ Tony asks again, this time raising an eyebrow to one of JARVIS cameras.

Steve babbles about something while Tony reads JARVIS answer.

**< From Jarvis>**

_Mr. Barnes tends to hide from_

_Captain Rogers if he is too_

_smothering. I helped on several_

_occasions and always have a watchful_

_eye on him. Mr. Barnes seems to find_

_hiding from Captain Rogers quite_

_amusing, Sir._

Tony snorts. Amusing. Really.

Steve looks like he's about to jump out of his skin. „Well then, Capsicle, better find your pal before he goes around murdering someone in his confusion, right?“

„Tony! It's... He's not like that. He wouldn't.“

„Yeah, yeah. Of you pop. Find him. And we'll have to talk about some things later because that“ and he waves his hand „is not happening again. Ever.“

Imagine if Tony runs into Robocop. That's something no one wants to see or experience. Well, Tony doesn't so... yeah.

Steve runs of while mumbling something about _Jerks_ and _hiding from friends is not cool, Bucky!_ and Tony finally turns to the camera with The Look: Eyebrows raised and hands folded infront of his chest.

„ _Mr. Barnes is in the broom closet near the communal kitchen, Sir.“_ Jarvis answers The Look readily.

Tony groans and rubs his face. „Well, warn him that I'll be coming by to make coffee. If he... wants to find another hiding spot.“ _Please, be gone when I get to the kitchen._

He walks slow, takes as much time as possible to get to the kitchen, to give Barnes enough time to get out of there. Coffee trumps confused, brainwashed assassins. Law of life and everything.

The kitchen is empty and he ignores the closet as best he can. JARVIS will warn him if Barnes is coming out with any plans. And yes, he knows he's a bit paranoid by this point. Sue him.

It only takes a few minutes and the sweet, sweet smell of his ambrosia fills the kitchen. He breathes in deeply and leans against the counter, waiting for the machine to finish spitting out the black gold.

„ _Sir...“_

„Hit me, J.“

„ _Mr. Barnes would like to know if you'd be interested in the exchange of goods. One cup of coffee for hilarious footage of Captain Rogers shouting down a vent and trying to squeeze in.“_

He's frozen for a moment. Footage of... Yeah. Totally imagining that right now. „Did you mention that I'm the big Kahuna around here and have access to all the footage recorded around the tower?“

A muffled sound that sounds suspiciously like _Shit!_ comes from the closet. „But I'm not totally heartless, so he can have the leftovers. I'll just take one cup and he's free to do whatever he wants with the rest.“

„ _Mr. Barnes would like to let you know he's not picky, as long as it tastes as good as it smells, and that you should really watch the footage.“_

„Will do.“ Tony smirks. „And maybe put it on youtube or something, just for the fun of it. Oh, JARVIS, remind me to send Cap a reminder of his exploits in the tower later. I'm sure he's gonna appreciate it.“ And that was definitely a snort right from the closet. He picks up his cup and heads for the workshop.

 


	10. Meeting the team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update, yay^^ Now, warnings were given, with work and family, I just can't get a chapter up every day. Especially when I have problems with a chapter, as with this one >_< seriously, the more I tinkered with it... Anyways, it's out, next one will be some science bro's. I think.  
> Now, as to further updates, I plan on AT LEAST!!! one update per week. Most likely on weekends, when I have some more time, but if there's some plot bunnies hopping around, there may be a chance for more during the week, no promises though.  
> As always, thanks for reading, Kudo's and Comments, they feed me when I'm trying to get the chapter to behave and come out as I want it to ;)  
> BTW: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ  
> Click this, don't play it. Wait till you're at the part when Tony comes in and shows the team his vid. You'll thank me later for the 'imaginary video' that hopefully plays in your head :D It did for me^^

Clint is on a mission. Go, get their new hou-no, towermate to get out. Mingle with the crowd. Socialize.

With what he knows, the vents should be the easiest way to get to the newest addition to their little band of crazy.

So, he's traversing the vents, he knows every corner in there, has some nests hidden in there with blankets and cushions, snacks, everything someone could want. He even tried to get a coffee maker going there once, the only problem he had was the lack of electricity and an extension cord would just give everything away, so... he just takes a thermos with him. Or two. Or five. Don't judge.

One more corner, he robs to the left and is at the grate covering the vent. He waits for a few minutes, listens. No sound, but that's to be expected, isn't it? It's the Winter Soldier after all. He pops open the grate and rolls out. Showtime.

The room is... empty? What? He stands up and turns around once, registering everything in the room. It's a room like any other but looks empty. Not lived in. There's nothing giving away the person that spends their time here. No clothes lying around, no coffee cups on the table, no notes, nothing. Empty.

So, the guy's probably in the bathroom, right? Steve is out, shopping, running, whatever super soldiers do for fun. Sam coaxed him away so the others from the team could get to Bucky. Clint only heard rumours about the last day and the game of hide and seek that suposedly went down between Steve and Bucky. And from what he heard, Bucky is right up Clints alley. A little shit, a troll. So, he plotted a bit with Nat and got Steve to leave his BFF alone for a bit. They have to meet eventually, right? Might as well be on their terms. And...

Bucky takes his sweet time in the bathroom, doesn't he? Clint plops down on a chair, wiggles his butt and makes himself comfortable. He can wait. He's a sniper. Well, one with a bow, but still a sniper, used to waiting for his mark so... anyway. Waiting. He can do that.

Jarvis would have mentioned if Bucky wasn't there, right? And Bucky isn't supposed to roam the tower anyway. Right? And...

„What do you want?“

The raspy voice comes from behind him which is... should be impossible, but there you are.

„Umm...“ Clint wriggles around, does he look? Does he turn around? It IS the Winter Soldier after all and could break his neck as easy as...

„Why are you here?“

„Well,“ he drawls. „I heard about your little excursion yesterday.“ The Win... Bucky. Yeah, Bucky snorts.

„Nothing goes unnoticed around here, does it?“

„Nope.“ Clint smirks, still sitting on the chair and looking at thin air. Hes not suicidal after all. Well, not much.

„So, you're what, curious?“

„Sure. Who wouldn't be?“ he risks looking around. Slow. Very slow. Not suicidal. „And I thought I could show you some other means to get around the tower. If you'd like.“

Bucky stands behind him, metal hand clenched at his side, right hand hidden in the pocket of baggy sweats.

„And why do you think I'd be interested in that?“

„Cause I don't think Cap fits in there?“ he winks at Bucky, tries to get a reaction out of the man. The man just shrugs.

„Well then. Surprise me.“

 

* * *

 

And that's how he finds himself crawling through the vents, following Hawk---guy? Something with birds, if he remembers correctly. The man babbles about the vents, coffee, his bow, coffee, the Spider, his bow, snacks, ice cream and coffee. He's all over the place, but doesn't seem to expect an answer.

Why hasn't anyone mentioned the vents before? They are great to get around in, small enough that Steve won't fit (as video footage from yesterday shows perfectly). The bird is the only one using the vents regularly, the spider every once in a while too, but other than that, they're empty, clean _Why are the vents so clean?_ and he'll have to check them out, alone, thank you bird, to map them out.

They end up in the communal kitchen, and the bird fumbles with the coffee maker, all the while talking at him. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't get a word in edgewise.

An hour later, and he is ready to crawl up a wall, if need be, to get out. Thor, alien, god of someplace or other, joined them and, well, he's actually a pretty nice fella, all things considered. He's just... a lot. So 'James' (and that just because Thor asked about it, 'James' really doesn't care what they call him) is on his third cup of coffee and fifth pop tart. Thor, bless him, is trying to get to know 'James' and already demanded that a feast must be held, in honor of 'James' return to his best friend, the good Captain. He's a lot to deal with.

The fourth cup of coffee brings with it Bruce and Natasha. Natalia. The spider. She just nods at him and doesn't take her eyes off him after that. Bruce is... quiet. No other word for it. He's talking, of course, but he's quiet. His demeanor, his words, everything about that guy is quiet.

He's about to crawl out of his own skin, edges towards the door whenever no one is looking, well, no one except for the spider, that is. She just raises an eyebrow and listens to the birds chattering. 'James' frowns, jerks his head to the side and creeps further towards the door. No one will notice that he's gone, again, the spider will but tough. He just wants some peace and quiet and with Steve gone, the others puttering around the kitchen, chances are he'll get it.

He reaches the door and is about to slip out when it flies open. Tony is barging in, giggling maniacally at another man while holding up something, a portable screen, different from the holographic ones JARVIS projects for 'James'.

He jerks back, trying to find another route out of the kitchen, the vents!

Tony plops the screen down and babbles something about 'Genius' and 'Steve is going to pop an artery' and a strange kind of music starts playing. Everyone gathers around Tony and... start snickering? What?

Bruce smiles and shakes his head, Thor's laugh is booming and the bird is crying, he's laughing so hard. Even the spider can't help but snort at whatever she's seeing, her mouth is twitching, she's trying to hold back laughter. And Tony...

Tony is beautiful. Just... When he first saw Tony, he looked haunted, stressed. His smile forced, body tense. Now? He's laughing, and it transforms his face.

 

* * *

 

 

„Rhodey, I swear, this is it. I'm a genius! Genius, I tell you!“ Tony giggles and bursts into the kitchen, Rhodey hot on his heels.

„Guys! You have to see this! Seriously, stop everything you're doing and just...“ he wipes away some tears, can't blame a guy for crying at the hillariousness on his tablet. „Look!“

He puts the tablet down and taps on the screen. Everyone, even Nat, is gathering around him, watching the video.

If anyone had doubted his genius before, he would have shown them this video and no judge ever would have, no, could have doubted his genius ever again. The music, the cuts, everything is just... well, genius. No other word for it.

„Barnes, come on man, you have to see this!“ Clint shouts and Tony tenses up. Barnes? Here?? How could he have missed him? _He's an assassin, what do you think??? Shit!_

Tony looks up and watches as Barnes slinks toward the table. He looks like he'd rather be fighting aliens or get picked on by a flock of crows than be here, right now. Tony can relate, strange as it sounds.

As soon as Barnes sees the video, something changes. His face lights up, he's... laughing. _Are brainwashed assassins supposet to laugh and look adorable while doing so? Seriously, look at... Nope! Nope, capital NO Tony, stop it!!_

„Did... Did you make that?“ Barnes squeezes out while trying to get his laughter under control, and Tony... smiles.He can't help but preen a bit. Barnes looks like he needs a lot more of that. Fun, laughter and _Why do I care?? Damn it!_

„ _Sir, Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson are on their way up.“_

„Uh, thanks for the information? Why...“ A little rustle, a creak, and Barnes is gone. _Oh, right..._

„Huh... Okay, then...“

The music, _Yup, still a genius move, if I say so myself!_ starts up again, Clint having comandeered the tablet, when Steve and Wilson enter the room.

„Hey guys.“ Steve flashes a smile at the gathered group. It's short lived, because Clint starts snorting, tears running down his face. „What...“

Steve walks towards the table and Nat just pushes the tablet to him, taps a few times and the video starts again. He watches for a bit, and... there it is. His famous 'Captain America is dissapointed in you' face.

„Seriously, guys? What...“ he starts, looking at Wilson who is trying to mask his snort as a cough.

„Come on, Cap. That's... that's gold, right there!“ Clint crows while wiping his face.

„That's not funny, seriously. I was looking for Bucky and you're making fun of me?“ and his 'You really hurt Captain America's star-spangled-feelings there.' look follows. Steve should patent all his looks. He'd be richer than Tony and the world would be at peace.

„Well, you're the only one in the tower to think that this...“ Tony holds up the tablet, still playing the video, „isn't hillarious! We even managed to squeeze a laugh out of your buddy, Barnes.“

„It's no-wait, Bucky was here?“ Steve stops berating and looks around.

„Well, it IS funny.“ comes the muffled response out of the vents. 


	11. Logic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to celebrate the success of my story so far... actually, no, to satisfy my need to write some fun PWP, smut, things^^ I decided, why not write something, because it's gonna be a while, maybe, until we get to the hot and smexy parts of this story. Maybe. Or maybe it's over in like 3 chapters, but I doubt it? Dunno yet. Rambling, right. So, if you want some Winteriron PWP, a ca. 1000 words one shot, or something, will see, watch out for it. Could be it goes up this weekend, or maybe sometime next week. Depending on when I get to it. Just thought I'd warn or inform you^^  
> Thanks for reading, Kudos and Comments. I just... never expected anyone to enjoy my dribble :,)

The workshop has always been the place where he just can be himself. Not Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist and whatever else the magazines name him, not major shareholder of a fortune 500 company, not Iron Man (though he will tell everyone that he and Iron Man are the same, up until his dying breath!). Just Tony. Nothing else.

Tony, who loves to find out how something works, how it could work and how he can improve it to make it the best there is. Who get's an idea and works it out, creates it and doesn't stop until it's behaving the way he wants it to.

Tony, in grease stained, barely there jeans and a band shirt, equally flimsy, or just a dirty old wife-beater if he's doing something hot... _Though it's been a while for that, if you get my drift!_

The workshop is a pretty good hiding place too. If he doesn't want to see anyone or someone, like for example Steve who wants to chew him out for something or other, or Pepper waving papers around that he HAS to sign now, Tony, come on! He just comes down to the shop, initiates blackout and is at peace. Well, as much at peace as he can get, which is not much, but every last bit counts, right?

So, after a little bickering with Steve, it wasn't an outright fight, if anyone's curious, thanks. Nothing was thrown, no blows exchanged, pretty tame, ask anyone! Well, he's down in his workshop, tinkering.

Well, not tinkering. It started as tinkering, sure. After a while though, he just stopped doing anything. Now, he's just throwing an Anti-stress-ball _Really, Pepper?!_ around for the bots to catch. Okay, not catch but wheel after it, beep excitedly then pick up the ball but, details. He's thinking, can't really concentrate on anything.

He's going through the, let's call it video-incident again and again. Especially the parts where he was acutely aware of Barnes. The tense, stony faced Barnes, who slouched at the corners of the room at first. The laughing Barnes, who looked so different, eyes crinkling, with a rusty laugh. Then the Houdini-act he pulled when Jarvis announced Steve.

He never thought the Barnes-situation, yeah, he's naming everything now, don't judge. So, the Barnes-situation doesn't seem as okay as Steve wants to think it is. Especiallysince Barnes seems to avoid his BFF whenever possible, see the Hiding-incident of the day before. Names. Situations and incidents need them!

And what is he doing, even thinking about it? Just because he's seen Barnes laugh? What?

Steve isn't particularly forthcomming with information about Barnes' stay in the tower. Exhibit A being the many times Barnes was hiding from Steve, which Tony found out only because of his caffeine addiction and JARVIS' negligence in stocking the workshop, so there.

Why is Barnes hiding from Steve?

And why should Tony care?

Questions, no answers. The riddle that is Barnes. He needs another name for that.

Project B, name subject to change.

Gather information, look for solutions to something he can't name yet.

Stay under Steve's radar. He's just going to think Tony is planning something. Which he is, but that doesn't mean Steve has to find out.

With JARVIS' help, Tony finds out more than he wanted to, actually. JARVIS, somehow, has taken to Barnes like a duck to water. Or something. It takes some time to convince JARVIS to part with details about Barnes' and Steve's days in the tower. JARVIS is nothing but loyal to the people he likes. But Tony is... Tony, his creator and JARVIS' loyalty, in the end, belongs to him so he get's what he wants, what he's looking for.

The fact that Barnes has had some pretty severe panic attacks since coming to the tower isn't surprising to Tony at all,with what has been done to him. Barnes doesn't sleep. Not in his bed at least. He prefers to hole up in the walk in closet and that is... yeah, not good. And Steve' wearing blinders on everything 'Bucky'. Not good.

A few hours into Project Not-your-business-why-do-you-even-care, he still has to work on the name, JARVIS interrupts Tony's fact finding, brooding, whatever. Thinking, let's go with that.

„ _Sir, Dr. Banner is at the door.“_

„Let him in, J.“ Tony sighs and rubs his eyes. „Hey, Brucie-bear. What's up, what can I do for you at...“ he checks the time, conveniently projected by JARVIS. „uhh, 2 in the morning?“

Bruce chuckles and nods towards the plate he's carrying. „Thought you might be hungry. You missed dinner.“

„And that's why you're my favourite, gimme!“ and he grabs the plate. „I'm starving!“

„Happens when you're working on things.“ Bruce smiles and looks over Tony's shoulder at the screens. „So, what're you working on? What's grabbed your attention so much to miss food?“

„Ahh, you know...“ Tony swallows and coughs. „You know how it is, Big-Guy.“

„I see. Interesting name for you new project.“

Tony swats halfheartedly in Bruce's general direction. „Stop it, I feel funny enough as it is.“

„Hmm,“ Bruce fumbles with his glasses. „I see you've taken to investigate our newest addition to the tower. Conclusions so far?“ He sits down at a rolling chair Tony pushed towards him.

„Gah. Just that he needs a shitload of therapy, if you ask me, and that Steve needs to open his fucking eyes.“ Tony groans. „And while we're at it, I might as well take up on a therapist or two. Seems my particular brand of crazy finally acts up more than usual.“

„Agree, agree and why is that? Not that I disagree with the last part, mind, but why?“ Bruce scrolls through everything Tony's found out so far.

Tony thumps his head on the desk. „Because. What am I doing here, trying to figure out how to help him?“

„Um, because you're you, because you care about people? That a trick question?“

„Brucie! Stop it.“ Tony sighs. „I shouldn't care, right? I shouldn't want to want to help. If that makes sense.“

„And why shouldn't you?“

„I don't know! He killed my parents, my mom, for example. Then, what if all this“ Tony waves at the screen „what if all this is just a ruse? What if it's Hydra trying to get in and- and he's just waiting to go on a killing spree? I'm paranoid, aren't I?“

Bruce nods and thinks for a moment, while Tony fidgets. „Wanna know what I think?“

Tony snorts. „I asked, right?“

„Well, we can't be 100% sure he's not connected to Hydra anymore but all evidence we found at the different bases we raided speaks towards Barnes being on the run and that means...“

„That means he's probably not with Hydra anymore, yeah. Never really believed that anyway, so...“ Tony shrugs. „Just-, you know, paranoid, crazy person here.“

„Which brings us to the killing spree... Really? He's had so many opportunities to do something.“

„Hello? Crazy person here!“

„You asked.“

„I know!“

„Right. Then... your parents.“

„Yup.“

„Yeah, that's...“

„Well, if you look at it like... It was the Winter Soldier, right? Not Barnes. Or... something. I don't know. I want to be angry. Throw a fit. Or him out of a window if he wouldn't kill me first or something.“

Bruce shrugs. „Well, look at it like this. What if it was, I don't know, Rhodes, for example.“

„What do you mean?“

„Imagine, for a moment, Rhodes being MIA.“

Tony shudders. „Nooonono. I'll look for him, however long it takes.“

„Then let's say he's been KIA.“ Bruce stops Tony's reply with a raised finger and shakes his head. „No body, some explosion or whatever. Just, imagine he's dead. Not even presumed dead, they're so sure about it.“

„Don't even want to think about it.“

„Just, hear me out. Now, a few years later, you get attacked or... something. Make up a scenario, epic, pathetic, your choice, just imagine it. There's this guy, merc or soldier or whatever, no one believes he exists, really, because his kill count is through the roof and no one person can do this.“

„I see where you're going...“

„Do you? Let's say you get attacked by this guy and somehow find out it's Rhodes. He doesn't know you, has been tortured and forced to kill at his masters whims and so forth. What are you doing?“

Tony raises his eyebrows. „So, I'm a hypocrite, is that it? I'd try to get to Rhodey, somehow, and protect him from anyone, but have problems seeing Steve's point and, by extension, maybe, accept that it wasn't Barnes but... Damn it, Brucie, using logic on me like that.“

„Well,“ Bruce chuckles. „as I see it, you've already figured everything out by yourself. You just, sometimes, need a... let's call it push in the right direction?“

„I mean... It's not like he had a choice, right? It wasn't as if he decided to go around kill people or something... Right?“

„What are you looking for, Tony?“

„I just... I mean, if you look at him, I-, don't know, just want to help him? Somehow? Make it better, fix things, it's what I do. But then I kinda feel guilty for wanting to-, shit. I feel guilty for wanting to help the man who did it, even though he didn't have a choice in the matter. Does that make sense at all?“

„Well, it's a unique situation, I give you that. Maybe you're right and you should look into talking to someone... and I don't mean me, we know how that ended up, right? I'm not that kind of doctor!“

Tony smirks, can't help it. „At least you got some hours of sleep in, right?"


	12. Distressed Freezer Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, not the weekend for most of you, I know but... Work kicked my butt last week and I didn't have time to do anything AND today is still kind of weekend since it's a free day and all... Okay, sorry :( And it's not even something loooong or anything... And doesn't advance the plot in any way... Jeez, should totally rewrite it maybe but since I promised at least one chapter a week there you are^^
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments, kudos. You guys <3 Hope you like it. Next chapter will probably be longer and deal with therapy and 'not'Bucky's arm or something. Maybe.

_'We know about your abnormal urges, Sargeant Barnes.'_

It's dark.

_'Bucky! Noo!'_

Cold.

_'Come on now, before anyone can see us. Just... yeah, right... ungh, god, you're... I'm...'_

He wants...

_'Asset!'_

Needs...

_'What... what are you doing?!'_

Something.

_'This one, strap him in and prepare him for the injection.'_

Rough.

_'Jerk.'_

His hands trailing along something rough. Smooth. Rough again.

„What the fuck??“

He wants... needs... it all to end.

„Hey, what are you... Umpf. Uh... yeah. All right. J?“

Needs something warm.

„Sir?“

Something. Something on his skin. It feels good. Hands. Maybe. Holding him?

„What the fuck is this?“

It's something steady against his racing heartbeat, racing thoughts.

„It seems to be a panic attack, caused by a nightmare. He didn't react to any of my tries to talk to him.“

He can stay here, for a moment. Right?

„And you didn't warn me? Seriously, J.“

It's warm and that's all that counts.

„Apologies, Sir.“

Voices. They're not gone but different.

„Yeah, yeah. Just... What am I supposed to do? Call Cap or... someone?“

Safe? Maybe. He's not safe anywhere, but safer than the voices from before. So...

„I don't believe including Captain Rogers will help in this situation, Sir.“

It's so nice.

„Really? Really, J? What... Hey, hey, woah! He's... wait. Do you hear that? Is that a... Hmm.“

Steady heartbeat. Warm hands on his skin. It's been so long.

„Seems like his arm is acting up, J. Do we have any scans or something?“

The voice is nice. Calm. No threat.

„Sir, I'd advice to wait until Mr. Barnes is in a better state to ask his consent to anything pertaining the arm.“

„Damn it. Yeah, right. Okay, up you go, come on, Freezer Burn. You need to help me here, buddy. There we go.“

Tugging. Under his arms. Is he on the floor? The voice wants him to move.

„Woah, not... ugh, not so fast. There we go. Sit down. J? Movie. Anything that's not, I don't know. We have some rom com? Something. And where do we have... right. There.“

Something on his skin. Some soft material. Smells good. Warm. He sighs.

He's floating. No other way to explain. He's warm and slowly calming down.

„...and seriously, how is it that they end up together in the end? I mean...“

The voice is nice, buzzing in and out of his mind.

„...you know? And she goes on to work for the man she what, hates? That's just...“

His song a nice comforting thing, finally drowning out the voices, memories of the night.

„...if some strange people run up to your RV and ask to use the toilet? Ridiculous, I tell you....“

He doesn't know how long he's been sitting on the couch, looking at the TV without actually watching but here he is.

Tony is slouching in the armchair, mug in hand and gesticulating as if he's conducting an orchestra or something, talking a mile a minute. It's strange, Tony's talking isn't as grating as he would imagine it could be. Not like Steve, who always talks to him, expects some kind of reaction. Tony just... talks. Rambles on about the movie, about whatever comes to his mind and doesn't expect an answer.

It's nice.

__

The night's a bust. Tony can accept that. First the thing in his workshop didn't go as planned and he got frustrated, and banged the thing to pieces with a hammer, don't judge, then this...

Barnes.

Shuffling through the tower, shaking and mumbling in russian. Eyes wild. Creepy.

Tony was close to a heartattack.

It wasn't too bad though, once Tony got over his shock and recognised _O_ _kay, JARVIS told me, jeez_  that it could be due to a panic attack. Tony knows panic attacks. Not the shuffling kind, more the kind of sitting in the corner of his room, trying to breathe and stuff but whatever.

So, he depostited the guy on the couch, got some harmless movies rolling and started talking. Helps, right? Should, anyway. And it did, if Barnes is any indication. He stopped shivering _but that could be due to the blanket he's wrapped in now, hmm_ and seems to track the goings on on the TV screen now, so.... success? Maybe.

And time for more coffee, deffinitely!

„Sooo, coffee?“

Barnes head snaps towards him. Yeah, that's... No. Stop it. Coffee.

„Yes?“ Barnes voice is rough, barely understandable.

„Right. How'd you take it? Black? Let's go black, it's good for you...“ Tony babbles and heads for the kitchen. Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid. It's not a sexy voice. It's not. Stop it. That rasp though... No!

Barnes hand when he takes the mug is steady, no sign of shaking anymore which is good. He sips on the coffee and looks at Tony over the rim of his mug. And if Tony is momentarily distracted by his eyes, no one has to know. Especially not the terminator with those eyes. Seriously.

In Tony's defence, it's been a while. With all the stuff going on, SI, Avengering _It's totally a word, Bruce!_ and everything. So, it's no wonder he's reacting to a nice voice and some sexy eyes. Especially when he's on hour 45 _Yeah, more like 70, sue me..._ without sleep, but... whatever.

Whatever.

„So, wanna talk or something?“ Cause that's the thing you do when something like this happens, right? At least that's what therapists are for and he has to get Barnes to one ASAP. Steve won't like it but tough.

„No.“

Right. He can work with that. No talking. „Ever watched Star Trek? No? Seriously, what's Cap doing all day if he's not showing you the BEST thing that ever graced the screens? J, roll it!“

  


 


	13. Asshole mandated therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again on monday, sorry >_< computer got a bit upset with me and didn't want to work.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, commenting, Kudos <3

Steve is furious _and a little hurt, but who cares, right?_ Every day. Every god damned day he get's up and makes breakfast, get's Bucky to eat, get's him to sit down and talk to him. Well, not talk to him but... well. It takes time! He just needs some time. To get to grips with being safe again, being with Steve, his best friend since they were kids. That has to count for something, right? He tries so hard to get Bucky to remember things. Tells him about their childhood, the things they did, how they were together, till the end of the line and... Bucky just needs more time.

Not a shrink.

And he told Tony that he doesn't need a shrink. Doesn't need someone to poke around his brain and deem him too dangerous, too damaged to live with the Avengers. Maybe even suggests to put Bucky in an asylum for brain damaged people. Yeah, he read about stuff and that's not gonna happen, no matter what anyone says how it changed. Not to Bucky. Not ever.

And Tony... no, Stark has the gall to demand a shrink, else he would kick them out? Seriously.

'Get a shrink for your pal or you have to leave.' Not in those words, sure, but in the end that's what it is.

Well, it was more on the line of 'Get a therapist for Barnes, I can't have someone living in the tower who could fall back to his programming at any moment and endanger everyone living and working here.' _and he's right, of course he is. Stark... Tony has to watch out for the people working in the tower, civilians for pete's sake!_ But Steve doesn't want to be generous right now. He want's to punch some of the reinforced bags down in the gym _Curtesy of Tony, damn him._ and stew in his... whatever it is. He's not jealous though.

But did they have to watch Star Trek together? Steve's tried everything to get Bucky to come out of his shell and, at least, talk. It's not like he's mute or anything, sure, but he's only answering questions, one syllable answers. Doesn't talk about anything with his best friend and instead goes on to watch TV with Tony? And don't even mention Tony being the one making Bucky laugh for the first time since Steve found him.

And if he's been looking for an appartment somewhere in Brooklyn already, no one has to know _Shut up Sam!_

The worst part is, Steve knows. Knows he's behaving like a spoilt brat, wanting his best friend all for himself after years of thinking him dead but can anyone blame him? Knows Bucky needs help and that everything he and Sam have been doing doesn't go anywhere. He knows. Doesn't help any, though. He just needs to work the frustration out of his system. That's it. And not think of Starks face instead of the punching bag. Not think of Bucky just shrugging after being informed of the row of Tony approved therapists he's going to see from now on.

 

* * *

 

 

Tony's in his workshop, fiddling with the armor. It took a beating during their last fight against the 'Vilain of the week' as they all have decided to call the random jerks popping up every now and then to take over the world. Or New York. Why they all decide the best place to start their evil machinations to be New York is anyones guess, everyone knows the Avengers have their base there. But maybe that's the whole appeal. Go against the Avengers, if you beat them, you're the evilest, or something. Then you deserve to be the ruler or the world. Maybe. He has to look into that theory.

„ _Sir, Dr. Hollis has left a message for you before she left today.“_

„Hollis? Who's that, help me out here.“ Some of the wiring in the armor is fried and he has to replace it. Hours of work with delicate instruments. Tony sighs and gathers his tools.

„ _The last therapist on the list of proffesionals specialising in brain damage, brainwashing etc.“_ comes JARVIS promt answer.

Tony sighs and rubs his eyes. The last. „Hit me.“ There's few doctors around that specialise in that sort of thing. Brainwashing has been out of the public eye for a long time now. The brain damage caused by HYDRA's programming endeavours should heal on it's own with Barnes bastardised Super Soldier Serum. At least that's what Bruce thinks and though he's not 'that kind of doctor' he's usually right in his assumptions. They talked about getting some scans of Barnes brain, but with all that he's been through, some therapy seemed to be more important for the time being. No one wants a triggered Winter Soldier running amok in the tower, much less New York. Being put into some machine or just getting something stuck on his head would probably not be the way for now.

Dr. Hollis' message is short and to the point. She can't do anything with a patient unwilling to participate and Barnes 'murder stare', her words, makes her feel uncomfortable. But she knows of someone who might be able to help. Dr. Martin works with vets and has helped bring back lot's of traumatized people from being written off and put into permanent care. Or worse.

Worth a try, Tony thinks and starts digging through the doctors life.

 

* * *

 

Dr. Martin is different. At their first meeting, he rushed in, took a good look at Barnes and started talking, eyes never leaving Barnes. Fifteen minutes later, he asked to see Tony. After that he's on to Steve. His recommendation, after Steve leaves the room nearly frothing from rage, is that he needs time. Want's a room prepared for Barnes and him to talk, and three meetings a week. No supervision from JARVIS and a coffee machine. He's confident that he can help, but doesn't promise anything.

And if Tony is a little smug about the doctor telling Steve off for overwhelming Barnes with his expectations, well, that's just one more reason in hiring Dr. Martin.

In the evening, the gym is littered with destroyed punching bags, Tony and Steve had a shouting match. Or two. Or five, but who's counting, but in the end, Tony get's it through. Dr. Martin and Barnes will meet three times a week from now on and Steve has to deal with that.

Barnes just shrugs and vanishes. He spends the rest of the evening in the vents, undisturbed by anyone, courtesy of JARVIS and his warnings whenever someone, Clint, enters the section of vents he resides in or tries to pry open the entry hatches, Steve, to get him to come out.

 

* * *

 

The first few meetings James didn't talk, just sat there, concentrating on his song and ignoring the prick sitting infront of him. Dr. Martin didn't do anything either, just sipped on his coffee and ignored James while fiddling with something. Different to the ones from before who started talking, asking invasive questions and expected James to talk, answer and think about his life, such as it is.

James tried to ignore the man, he really did but in the end he snapped, asked the doctor, not too friendly, to stop fiddling around, say his piece and leave. Dr. Martin just smiled, put the thingamajic down and said „I was just waiting for you, Mr. Barnes.“

They didn't talk much at first, only fiddled with things, logic puzzles, mechanical doodads and even a badly jammed pistol one time. Something clicked. They talk more and more. About unimportant stuff, TV, music, Dr. Martin has James put together a list of shows he wants to see, of music he likes to listen to and everything. At least once during every meeting, Dr. Martin steers their conversation to James and his life so far. His problems with memory, his time as the Asset. Sometimes they talk about that, sometimes James just blocks it out, but it get's better every time. He finally decided on his name, too. He's not Bucky anymore, no matter what Steve thinks and James is as good a name as any so he goes with that. When he told Dr. Martin about his decision he just smiled and the issue from their first tentative talks, how Dr. Martin was to adress James, was gone.

Dr. Martin knows more about James than anyone else around him and is the reason James leaves his room on his own, without someone prompting him to, at least once a day. „No matter for how long, just go get a cup of coffee, talk to someone, join the team on movie night, whatever you do. Just don't bury yourself, James.“ He helps James find ways to deal with his panic attacks.

He's also the reason James is infront of the workshop now, hands shaking, debating with himself. Go in, provided JARVIS let's him, or run and hide.

It's been coming for a long time now. He needs someone to look into his arm. The fight, more than a year ago on the helicarrier, the following weeks of trying to get bent plates and stuck mechanisms to work on his own, the arm is a slow, lagging mess instead of the sleek, fast piece of art it has been once.

He talked about it with Dr. Martin, after he destroyed one of the 'things' they fiddle with every meeting. His left hand twitched and crumpled the pieces without any problems and got stuck in that position. „You know, James, Mr. Stark is an engineer. I'm sure he can help you with your arm, if you ask him.“

This is the third _Okay, fifth, jeez._ attempt and damn it, he will go through with it. Just to make sure he can tell Dr. Martin about it tomorrow. It's not that bad, right? Shouldn't be. It will hurt, work on the arm always hurt with HYDRA but he's trained to ignore it. He just has to take the first step and go in!

„Jarvis...“ he clears his throat. Get to it! „Is... Tony inside?“ He should have thought about that earlier, Tony could be anywhere. It's not like the man lives in his workshop, right?

„ _Sir is inside, do you want me to notify him of your wish to talk to him?“_

Do it! „Yes.“

It takes a moment, then the door slides open.


	14. Armed with good intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? Another chapter this week? Just for you lovelies, and it's the weekend, soon-ish and if everything goes well there will be another up this weekend. Yay? Yay! (Warning: all mistakes are my own. Spelling or grammar and I'm not a doctor or anything so if I made mistakes in describing anything, especially in this chapter, don't burn me at the stake, please?)  
> Now, I'm still taking suggestions for songs (since you already recommended some nice ones that I hadn't heard so far and added to my playlist and such... yeah ;)).  
> Don't be shy, comment the shit out of me, I love answering comments and talking to you guys <3

He's frozen. The door to the workshop is open, waiting for him to go through but he... can't. It's too much and the arm isn't that damaged so why should he go in there, expose himself to someone, be expected to talk and be social while that someone is poking around his arm. He can't do it. Doesn't want to do it. So what if the arm, the one thing he likes about all the crap he's been through, the one thing that helped him out time and again, is kind of broken at the moment. Not too broken, though. Just a bit. Practically not at all. It's nothing. It doesn't hurt. _But it does._ It doesn't prevent him living his life. _Such as it is..._

„You gonna come in or what?“

Tony's voice echoes through the workshop. James winces. _Great idea, doc._ He takes a step, another one and looks for the engineer. Tony sit's at a desk, surrounded by holo screens that bathe everything in blue light. Something beeps and rolls towards him, it's an arm of some kind perched on a plate? With wheels? What?

The thing stops infront of James, moves it's arm, claws opening and closing and it's beeping, chirping at him.

„Stop it, dummy.“

The thing retracts, claws drooping towards the ground and beeps. It sounds sad. Can a _What is that?_ thing sound sad?

„Leave him alone, he doesn't want to play with you. Back to your station, chop chop!“

The... thing _Is that a robot?_ wheels back through the workshop, chirping all the while.

„Oh, don't give me that.“ Tony looks at the thing, robot, whatever and wiggles his finger at it.

„What... is that?“ James can't help it, has to ask. The way Tony talks to the thing and the thing reacting to his voice, chattering back at Tony as if it understands him boggles the mind.

„That's dummy, a... helper bot, though he doesn't really help, the menace. Yes, I'm talking about you, and if you're not at your station in five seconds I will disassemble you and make a mixer out of your parts, just you wait!“ Tony points to somewhere in the back of the workshop and looks at the thing with a raised eyebrow.

„Dummy? Isn't that...“ James doesn't get it. Why would Tony call something like that a dummy?

„Not dummy. D.U.M.-E. Though he is a dummy most... nope, all the time. Don't think I've forgotten your last accident with the fire extinguisher!“ Tony casts a suspicious glance at the robot.

A robot. A fully working robot.

„And what does that mean?“ James asks.

„Huh?“ Tony turns around and scrunches up his face. „It... doesn't mean anything.“ He grins. „It just looks better than dummy. You know... on paper. Or on his body. Whatever. So“ he claps his hands together. „what do you want?“

„Uh... I just. Um.“ _God, stop stuttering!_ „My arm.“

„Can I get a full sentence here?“

„It's... Not working right. My arm. And...“ it's hard. Hard to ask for help with the arm. To trust someone else to touch it. To trust that it will work out and not end up with a chair and pain again. „I was, no. Doc thinks you can help with that. Maybe. Yeah. Stupid idea. I'll just leave...“

„Wait. Waitwaitwait! Don't move!“ Tony jumps up and James freezes instantly. He could use a knife right about now. Or something else. Anything else, really. Just to have something to defend himself with, but everyone seems to agree that James is not to be given anything remotely dangerous _As if that would make them safer against the Winter Soldier..._ so he has to trust on his hands, with one hand not working right. Great.

„You want me to look at your arm?!“ Tony looks at James with wide eyes. „God, please. Please tell me I heard that right!“

„Um... yes?“ James manages. It sounds more like a question than anything else, but there it is. „Maybe. I'm... Doc says... And it's not...“

„Jarvis! Open up a new file. Come on, robocop. Come over here, sit your ass down and let me get my hands on this beauty. Do you feel with it? How is it connected? Does it hurt? What power source does it have? What is it made of? You know what? We'll do a scan and then see...“

It's too much. James takes a step back. Tony's voice starts to fizzle, words slurring into one another and black spots start to dance infront of his eyes. His heart picks up speed, trying to beat out of his chest. Tony want's to look at the arm. Want's to know about the arm. Want's to poke around it, do things and James is so not okay with any of this. Especially not with Tony firing questions at him at high speed and he just. Needs. To. Get. Out! Now!

He's choking. Doesn't get enough air.

Remember Doc.

Something solid at his back.

He slides down.

Breathe!

He needs air.

He's having a heart attack.

He's going to die, right now!

„...know it's hard...“

Voices.

No.

One voice.

He latches onto the voice.

„...around you, nothing is going to get to you!“

The voice is calm, soothing.

He opens his mouth, tries to breathe.

His chest feels constricted. Is that how the skinny little Steve he remembers sometimes, felt whenever his asthma acted up?

„I'm going to take your hand. If you don't want to, just shake your head.“

It takes a few seconds, might as well be hours until James feels a warm hand on his, feels it being moved towards something, placed onto something soft, warm, moving.

„There you go. Feel my breathing and try to breathe with me. In.“

His hand moves, get's pushed out by the movement of... a chest? Breath. The sound of someone breathing slowly in.

„And out. Come on Barnes.“

His hand moves back. The movement is slow, deliberate. He did the same with skinny Steve, right? _Breathe with me, Stevie!_

The voice announces every breath, the body under his hand moves evenly.

His first breath rips through him, it hurts but it's so good. Air.

„That's it. And out!“

Another breath. He opens his eyes and Tony is kneeling infront of him, arms at his side. He's fuzzy, black spots dancing through his vision.

„Still breathing, you're doing good. In.“ Tony takes a slow breath again and James tries hard to copy him. It burns in his chest and he want's to scream, want's it to stop right now! Please! He snaps for air again.

„Easy, easy there. Breathe out.“ Tony's chest moves back under his hand and James presses the air from his lungs, let's it all out.

„Good one. Again. You can do it. In.“ James' next breath comes easier, it still feels as if someone is pressing his chest together and his breath isn't as deep as Tony's but it's still air.

„There you go. Concentrate on my breaths, breathe with me. In... Out.“ Tony continues breathing, slow and steady. „Now, what do you need, Barnes?“

He's concentrating on breathing, trying to match Tony's breaths when... What? What does he need?

A knife. No. Pistol? They won't give him a weapon. Nonono, what? „Counting.“ he wheezes. Doc said something about counting, didn't he?

„Right. That's good, backwards from 100? Come on, count with me. 100...“

It's hard at first. Counting. He rasps out numbers in between laboured breaths and Tony orders him to move his arms above his head, tells him to skip every second number while counting, every third, and his voice is calm. Never too much and James concentrates on breathing and doing whatever Tony tells him to do.

They count down from 100 a few times, changing up skipped numbers, while James moves his arms, his head, his feet, breathes with Tony and it's... good. He calms down more and more, his heart isn't rabbiting around his chest anymore and he feels... not good but better. He's not dieing. He's safe. He's not alone. His hand on Tony's chest, warmed by Tony's body, is proof of that. More proof than his voice, he can feel Tony's heart beat, feels him breathing and vibrating whenever he says something and that helps more than anything.

–

So, that went well, Tony thinks. The first time Barnes comes in, looking for help and Tony sends him into a full fledged panic attack. He was excited, okay? No one can blame him. Maybe. God, Rogers is going to rip him to shreds, he just knows it.

But!

That arm. Ever since the night of coffee and Star Trek, he wanted to lay his fingers on that beauty and now he can be lucky if Barnes will ever let him come anywhere near him, not to mention his arm.

And isn't that something to laugh about. Barnes panicking because of Tony.

At least Tony has some experiences in dealing with panic attacks. The few _Yeah, loads, more like..._ therapists he's seen since Afghanistan and the battle of New York have helped with at least some info on dealing with them. Not that he needs it, mind you, just in case someone else needs it. He's always been good at ignoring his own problems.

The counting helps. Barnes starts sluggish at first, rasping out numbers inbetween choking breaths but after a while the numbers come out easier. He goes on telling Barnes to move. His hands, legs, whatever, just to get his mind off the death spiral that is 'I'm going to die right the fuck now!' and it seems to work out well and finally, finally Barnes breathing get's calmer, his eyes focused on Tony, and isn't that something... No!

„Soo...“ he starts and fidgets under Barnes intense stare. „I guess... I should apologize.“ As far as apologizing goes, that's a good start, he thinks. „I was too excited, I guess and... Sorry? It's just... That's a beauty you have there, no matter where it's from... Shit. Shouldn't mention that, probably, sorry. Again.“ he babbles.

„Do you always talk that much?“ Barnes voice is rough, not surprising considering the last... however long they've been sitting here.

Tony snorts. „Yeah, sorry bout that. It's... Well.“ he shrugs. So what, he's always been like that and it's not like he can't hold back for a bit to make someone else feel more comfortable. Especially since that someone may let him look at some awesome tech. Or maybe not. Who knows, this little stunt may prevent him to ever lay his hands on that arm and that would be a crying shame, if you asked him.

Question is, what is he supposed to do now? Last time, the night of coffee and Star Trek, everything somehow... turned out... well? Maybe. Until Steve came in and ushered Barnes back to his cave of friendship and smothering. Should he call Steve? Motion for JARVIS to inform Steve of the state Barnes is or was in? Then again, Tony likes living and having all his appendages attached to his body so, probably not the best idea.

„You're thinking too loud.“

And that's just insulting. „Well“ Tony drawls. „what do you know. First you tell me I talk too much, now I'm thinking too loud? I have yet to invent an off-button for humans.“

Barnes snorts and grins. The bastard grins!

„You go on grinning like that, Metallica, and I'll call Rogers.“ Tony stifles a smirk at Barnes wince.

„You wouldn't!“

„Watch me!“

They look at each other, Tony trying hard to keep up a stern face. Barnes squints and, after a few seconds leans back his head and starts to chuckle.

„You know, you look like you're about to burst a vein or something.“

Tony huffs. „I don't know what you mean.“

„I'm sure you don't.“

He's giving up. No use in keeping up the sharade any longer and maybe, if he plays his cards right he can...

„So, wanna start over?“ he squints at Barnes.

„Huh?“

„Well, you said something about your arm before we got so rudely interrupted.“

Barnes snorts again, without the grin this time. „Right. I don't... Just...“

Tony watches Barnes fidget for a bit. „Whenever you're ready.“

 


	15. Ignore it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai 'waves'. So, extra chapter last week didn't work out, sorry for that. I'm not going to promise an extra this week, just saying maybe. Or maybe a tiny smutty one shot? Will see.   
> As always, thanks for reading, Kudo's and commenting. So happy seeing the Kudos counter go up or reading new comments (even if it's some discussion of everything and ranting and Wanda bashing ;))  
> Now, some more earnest matters. There's this thing called Winteriron Bang, over on Tumblr and I was thinking of joining maybe... What do you guys think? Would also prompt me to finally join Tumblr^^  
> Let me know? And comment for me, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, whatever! I'm up for everything :D 'shameless begging'

_Whenever you're ready._

The words spook through his head. What if he's never ready for anything? He want's someone to look at his arm. It's broken. It hurts. He doesn't want someone to look at his arm. It's broken. It hurts. But the pain goes deeper. He knows it's not like before, where maintenance of the arm was followed by the chair. White, hot pain, leaving him empty. Nothing.

But he still wakes up most days, panting, shaking, trying to remember who he is, where he is and if he is anyone at all.

But the memory of the last time he came out of recallibration, he tried to kill Steve for the greater good.

The greater good. HYDRA. Still out there, probably still looking for him. Still in possession of words that make him nothing, at least for a while. Long enough to bring him in, to recallibrate him and that...

He doesn't want to think of that anymore. Doesn't want to be afraid of that anymore. He needs to do something and maybe doc is right. Maybe he needs to step out of his comfort zone, which, at the moment, includes ignoring everyone and just exist without crawling out of his own skin.

It's not as hard as he'd feared.

Tony told him to 'Stay, or go, whatever. I need to finish some things so... As much as I'd like to sit on the cold floor and stare at your pretty face, I need to get some shit done here.' and he did. Stayed.

Thought about how easy it was, for a moment, to banter with Tony. How some part of himself seemed to slot into place and, just for a bit, feel whole again. Just for a bit, and it was good.

Tony, for his part, seemed to ignore him and that was fine too. He could sit there, on the ground, back to the wall and watch Tony do his thing. Talk with JARVIS and banter with DUM-E. Every so often the little bot waves at James, squeaks at him questioningly, and isn't that something, a bot so much like a, a dog or a little kid or something. It's amazing, is what it is. Something James, or Bucky, whoever he was 'before' might have liked a great deal and James finds he likes it too.

James knows his way around many things, technological things like cell phones, tablets and computers. Weapons, of course, they were his bread and butter for so long that he could handle them blind with one arm bound behind his back. The Asset needed to know everything, infiltration can only go so far until you're caught because you missed a camera or alarm system. So someone had to have taught him, as the Asset, everything and still, the things Tony does make him feel some kind of awe.

And so he watches, listens and even migrates to the ratty couch a bit nearer to the genius, just to see more, watch him more closely. When he sits down Tony looks up, grins and winks at him and goes back to fiddling with another thing and totally ignoring James. It's just what he wants, needs.

Maybe, just maybe, this can work. He needs some time and maybe, if he get's a bit more comfortable in this place, maybe he can let Tony look at the arm without panicking. There's lot's of maybe's around but still, with time it could work out. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

He robs through the vents and let's the events from the workshop play through his head. He hadn't expected Barnes, or Bucky, if you listen to Steve, had been a mess. A hot mess, to be sure, still a mess though. Surprising to Clint, Tony dealt with the panic attack quite well. Something to consider... Tash is going to look at him condescendingly and just sigh, all without a change in expression because that's who she is. It's probably something she found out after five minutes with Tony but eh. She's the spy, he's more the sneaky archer-sniper dude and is happy with it.

Clint just debates with himself if he wants to take the next turn left or right, left would bring him closer to the kitchen and coffee, when someone grabs his foot. It can only be Tash, she's the only one able to sneak up on him. The Winter Soldier, Bucky or whatever he is might be able to, aswell but he still has to show some skills in that regard. Clint is proud that only a tiny little squeak comes out of him, he's surprised, okay? He never thought anyone would sneak up on him in the vents, not now, at least.

„Tash! What the fuck?“ he hisses and wiggles his foot.

„Go right, then left.“ is the only answer he gets.

„I want coffee!“ he whispers back petulantly.

„GO!“

He grumbles but does as she says. Or hisses. Whatever.

„What are we...“ His question get's cut off by angry voices. „Huh.“

„Move.“ She pinches his thigh and _that's so not cool, Tash!_

„Where 'm I supposed to move to, genius?“ He would kick at her, just for that, but probably wouldn't survive for much longer after that.

„Just a bit more, I want to hear...“

He sighs and robs forward. „There. Happy?“

„Hmm...“

Tash squeezes through, wriggles along his body and if they hadn't already gone through their phase of 'Fucking like rabbits, goddamnit Barton, Romanoff!' as Coulson would have said... Well. She smirks at him, knowing his thoughts just by looking at him, possibly, but it's not that hard anyway. Huh, hard...

His musings get interrupted by something crashing against the wall they're snuggled up behind.

„ _Seriously, calm down man. What's up with you?“_

A quiet voice, Sam? Could be. Clint raises an eyebrow and looks at Tash, whose nod is barely percievable. He goes through the vent's layout and, yeah, they should be right at Steve's doorstep, so to speak.

Someone, Steve?, mumbles back and Sam snorts.

„What's going on?“ Clint's whispers is barely audible, but Tash smirks. She heard it and she smirks. Should be good.

„He found out that Barnes is sitting in the workshop with Tony.“

„And that's... bad?“ he asks and scrunches up his face. „Shouldn't he be happy that Barnes is doing stuff?“

Tash smacks him and glares at him. On the other side of the wall, the two men are talking again.

„ _...don't understand why he's not coming to me! I'm his... and he... and to Stark, of all people!“_ Steve's voice, louder now.

„Jealous Cap.“ Clint smirks. Tash nods and winks at him. „Should be good, too bad we don't have any popcorn.“

 


	16. Something new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, things start to move along. Now, as to something that's been brought to my attention, I haven't mentioned the song in quite some time. Sorry about that. Now, I have some (maybe flimsy^^) excuses as to that. It's my first story, multi chaptered and everything. It's not planned out or anything, it goes how it goes. I have no beta to remind me of something like that. ;) But, thanks for reminding me, I'm sorry that I messed up some here and try to be better. <3 This chapter is a bit longer too, so... hope that makes up for it? :)  
> Now, I've got a question I will post at the end of the chapter as to prevent any spoilers or something^^ Read it, suggest something, please! 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, commenting and Kudo'ing? Kudosing? I don't even...

Something is different. He wakes up and something isn't quite... right? He goes through the last days. Anything that happened, but comes up blank. Blackout? He hasn't had a drink in weeks and it doesn't feel like a hangover so that's out of the question. Something else but what? He can't put a finger on it.

He get's up, humming, and starts his day. The thing, whatever it is, will come out soon enough.

Everyone is gathered in the kitchen, eating, talking, making a mess with Barnes, no, James smack dab in the middle of it. Doc Martin has increased his exposure to mandatory breakfast with all the Avengers and so far, it seems to work out. The first days have been a bit awkward, with everyone walking on eggshells, just in case but he wouldn't be Tony Stark if he would let the awkwardness continue like that. A quip here, some snark there and a little bit of bickering with Steve took care of that problem. James even grinned at one of his more outrageous jokes. So, breakfast is back to the silly, crazy affair it's been ever since the Avengers moved into the tower.

He goes for his mandatory cup, gallon, whatever, of coffee to get his brain online when a voice, one rarely heard, pipes up.

„Tony?“

He stops his shuffling, turns around and tries to find out who dared speak to him before his first taste of caffeine. It's James.

„Hmm?“

Steves brows knit together at his response but tough. Who can expect him to be vocal that early in the morning? No one, that's who!

„I was wondering if... you had some time, today?“

Huh. James asking for his time? Could it... No. Don't get your hopes up. He tries to think, schedule, what is he supposed to do today? He comes up blank. Coffee! He huffs and shrugs, cradling his empty mug.

„Can't you just answer like a normal human being?!“ Steve growls.

„ _If I might interrupt, there's a board meeting at two today, Ms. Potts has demanded your attendance.“_

JARVIS, good, old JARVIS to the rescue. Board meetings suck anyway. „Hmm. Workshop in fifteen?“ He'll have enough time to ingest some coffee and get his brain going.

James nods and goes on shoving his food around the plate.

The first taste of coffee, when it finally hits his tongue, is... hot, too hot, searing his mouth but it's so good, as always, hitting him right where he needs it. He starts paying some attention to his surroundings, listens to Nat and Clint bicker, Steve reading the paper, on actual paper, the heathen... and it's just... warm. Home. Family.

They all have their problems and secrets, like Clint who dissapears every so often for a few days and comes back with a silly smile he can't suppress, or Bruce who locks himself in the Hulk containment room, picture in hand, humming a song.

Not everything is secrets or sadness though. Take Thor and Jane for example. Janes song was something alien ever since it started, words or sounds she couldn't understand. Along comes Thor and everything was good.

Steve, Captain America, with Peggy Carter who died a few months after he was de-iced and now has another match. He has yet to find out who it is, but ever since the song started the times where Steve just closed off, picture of Peggy in hand and humming to himself, are done. He still think and talks about her, but he's not mourning her anymore. Tony would have bet any amount, so sure he was that Steve and James would match up but, so far, it doesn't seem like the former Hydra Assassin has a song. If he has, it's not Steves.

A younger Tony would have raged at the unfairness, someone getting two matches while he get's none? People leaving their matches because of one reason or another and don't appreciate what they have, and he, who aches for someone, get's none. That was how he once felt. Time has shown that he can have people in his life, they don't care that he's broken, doesn't have a match, and put up with him regardless.

He shakes off his maudlin thoughts, refills his mug and starts for the door ignoring Steve's 'You need to eat something, Tony'. He needs to get his head straightened out, to find out what's going on, what the... thing, for lack of a better word is. Then, there's James. He tries not to think about what's going to happen. James has spent some time in the workshop while Tony's been working, but the arm never came up again. He doesn't want to get his hopes up.

 

* * *

 

Today's the day. Today he will get his arm looked at and fixed and everything is going to be all right.

He's been working with Doc Martin, trying to come up with methods far away from what he experienced so far. He spent some time being ignored by Tony and slowly getting comfortable in the workshop. The similarities with other places where someone worked on his arm are still there but maybe he can convince Tony to work on him while sitting on the couch. The ratty thing has been a good place, soft and worn as it is.

Today will be the day.

He enters the workshop right on time, thanks to JARVIS, and doesn't hesitate, makes his way to the couch and sits down. Tony is sitting on a rolling chair, moving around, looking at James expectantly. Here goes.

„I want you to look at my arm.“

The words come without pause. Decisive. Sure.

Tony stops moving and opens his mouth just to close it with an audible click. „You sure?“ he asks after a few moments of silence.

„Yes.“

Something skitters under his skin, this is it.

„Okay...“ Tony looks around, face scrunched up, thinking. „Anything I should watch out for? Do or don't do to... you know...“ he waves his hands.

„Make me freak out again?“ James grins a little. „Tell me what you're doing, where you're doing stuff and...“ he stops, chews on his lip and watches Tony. The man is holding steady, has to be said. On the outside. The way he holds himself, barely restrained movements. James appreciates it, knows how hard it is for Tony to keep quiet. He's been watching Tony interact with everything, talking a mile a minute while he works.

„And?“

„Could you...“ James clears his throat. „Could you work on me while I'm on the couch?“

„Yes! I mean, sure, whatever you need.“

James grins and takes off his shirt. „Let's go before I change my mind.“

„J, scan! It's okay, right? It's just a scan so I can see your arm from the inside and...“ Tony claps a hand over his mouth. „Sorry, sorry. No rambling. Promise.“ he mumbles.

„Scan is fine, go for it JARVIS.“ and with that his arm is enveloped in blue light, so similar to the holo screens always floating around Tony.

„ _Scan complete.“_

„Thanks, buddy. Now, let's see...“ Tony plonks down beside James and a... what is that? It looks just like his arm just... blue and sort of... see through and... it's amazing! His right arm moves on it's own, towards the copy of his arm and touches, or tries to touch it.

„Hmmm, yeah, look there?“ Tony points at something and starts babbling, mumbling about connections, loose wires and other things, the same way he usually works and James can't help but zoom out. He's there but... not. Lost in his mind, his song. Tony's talking goes down to a comfortable buzz, JARVIS noting down everything Tony says is just a footnote and James... feels good. Relaxed. Just another day in the workshop, getting ignored by Tony.

He doesn't know how long it takes for Tony to set up a plan of action and jerks when Tony finally speaks to him again.

„James?“

„Hnghf?“

It's not pretty but Tony doesn't bat an eye, just smirks at him.

„I'd like to start with a teeny tiny ramble, if you don't mind?“

Why would he... Right. Tony's just careful. „Go ahead.“

„That's a beauty you have there, I have to say. There's a lot wrong with it, but I think I can get rid of most of the nicks in no time at all. Some things will take a while and I have to disasemble some parts to get to the bugs down there. It's your decision, what do you want to do first?“

James shifts and looks at the arm-scan. Or something that was an arm-scan some time in the past, now it's just disasembled pieces floating in the air. It's... terrifying.

„Uh... you're not gonna... like that?“ James swallows hard and points at the scan. Parts of his arm. Whatever it is.

„What?“ Tony blinks and looks at the scan too. „No! Nonono, don't worry. That's just... I might have gone overboard, looking at things.“ He scratches his head. „Sorry? J, assemble.“

In the blink of an eye, the arm-scan is whole again, no pieces floating around. Some parts of the arm are red, some purple.

„So, the new colours...?“

„Ah!“ Tony jumps up and fiddles with the arm-scan, blows it up to proportions fit for a giant. „Like I said, some things are easy to fix, some are going to take more time so... The red is for parts easily fixed, purple for the harder parts. Or was it the other way around?“ Tony squints at the scan. „JARVIS?“

„ _I believe you decided on purple for the easy fix and red for the harder parts, Sir.“_

„I did? Huh...“

So, maybe it wasn't the best idea to let the resident crazy genius operate on his arm.

Tony turns and, at seeing James face, lifts his hands. „Okay, in my defense, nothing happened. Yet. And, to be honest, there's so much wrong with your arm that I had to do something, right? And it's all cleared up! JARVIS won't let me do anything wrong, promise! Please don't run?“

He's going to end up with a half assembled arm at best but... In for a penny and all that. He sighs and holds out his arm. „Something small for starters. Let's see how it goes.“

It's hard. Trusting someone with something so important as his arm but Tony manages, somehow. He explains every little step, everything he's doing and James is surprised that it doesn't hurt. Yet. It's only little things, Tony replaces some plates, reconnects some wires and the only thing James can feel is a little tickle whenever Tony moves some wires around. It's good, and when it isn't, they take a break. Tony comes up and presents him with a well worn 'Anti-Stress-Ball' and James, after kneading it through a few times, throws it for the bot's who surround him, chirping excitedly as soon as they notice the ball.

 

* * *

 

It's during the board meeting when it hits him.

Johnson or Jackson or whatever his name is is droning on about numbers, the next release of the improved StarkPhone XII, do we wait for christmas or are we releasing it in time to rival yet another Iphone release. Tony doesn't care for that at all, his stuff is miles better than apple and everyone knows it.

He's glaring at Pepper, again. Hasn't really stopped. She barged into the workshop just as he started to explain some more invasive actions to James and dragged him, kicking and screaming, to the board meeting. At least he got another smirk out of James when he shouted 'Remember me as I was!', so yeah.

And now he's sitting here, not listening to anyone, thinking about that beautiful piece of tech he left in the workshop. And James, of course, since he's attached to the tech and has these killer eyes and... nope! Not thinking about that. Ever. Especially not during a board meeting.

Pepper is going to kill him one way or the other but tough. She deserves every last angry glare he can manage! He's already plotting and making notes on how to escape her clutches, revoking her access to the workshop for example. Sounds pretty good and....

„Stop humming!“

The hiss is accompanied by an angry jab at his ribs. He winces and then....

Humming.

Huh.

What is he... humming? Since when? And what is that... song? It's not something he listens to, so it can't be something stuck in his head and...

He freezes.

Could... it be?

After years and years of waiting!

He has to get out, research, find his match and...

Yeah. If it was ever that easy...

The thing that has been bugging him since he got up this morning, his match, his soulmate.

„What... seriously, Tony, stop grinning like that, you're making them nervous!“

Another hiss from Pepper. He looks up and everyone is staring at him, coughing nervously and shuffling papers around.

„Right, so... uh. I'll have to kidnap your beautiful CEO for a few minutes and tell her something important so... take a break, get some coffee and a danish or something so you don't die of boredom and I'll get her right back to you.“

Tony jumps up and drags Pepper out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Every member of the board has some stories about Tony's machinations. Drunk Tony arriving and falling asleep during a meeting while drooling on the table, Tony arriving all banged up from an outing of the Avengers, Tony dropping in wearing the Iron Man armour. Nothing would surprise them anymore, except... This!

They see what is happening outside and that's something new. They expect everything from Tony but Pepper always has everything under control. She's organised, calm and collected when dealing with the board and this? Is so unlike her...

They leave, together. Stop right infront of the glass door and Tony is talking a mile a minute, gesticulating wildly and Pepper, at first frowning at him but then, her face lights up, she grins and stops Tony, talking, asking something probably and Tony answers and she squeals! Honest to god squeals. They hold hands and jump up and down.

The board members of SI have seen many strange things but nothing as strange as Pepper, holding Tonys hands while jumping up and down in her heels, squealing and crying and hugging Tony. They've never seen anything like this, and will never see anything like this again.

Probably.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, as you might have noticed, Steve has a song and I'm not sure as to who will be his partner? I thought of Sam first but... there's somuch of Steve/Sam already and I kind of want something... else? So, if you have an idea as to who could be his match, send it along. Thanks <3


	17. To dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a while, I know >_< But I'm moving, still, and my webz isn't ready yet and everything so... I don't know when I will be able to update again, especially since we are really busy at work on top of everything so... Yeah. New chapter though, yay?

„Yah'no...“ Rhodey lifts his hand to his mouth, trying to hide a burp. „I jus... imagine this kid, pro'ly in college or somin....“ he glares at Pepper who doesn't even try to hide her giggles anymore.

„What you talkin bout, Honeybear?“ Tony tries to focus on Rhodey, or better yet, the two of him sitting, slouching, in front of him.

„Just... think 'boutit.“

Tony thinks about it but it's hard thinking about 'IT' without knowing what 'IT' is. Here's to hoping 'IT' doesn't have clown features or he's out of there. Seriously.

„Imagine...“ Rhodey holds out his hand, waves it around before noticing the empty shotglass in it and sake dripping from his fingers. He glares at the waste of good alcohol for a second, completely losing his train of thought.

„Imagine what?“ Pepper takes the empty shot glass from Rhodey and fills it right up. She seems to be the only one to still have the necessary motor skills to do anything.

„Imagine this kid... sitting in college or something... tryin'ta.... learn or whatever...“ Rhodey's eyes are reduced to slits as he picks up his glass again. „...and the poor thing has a headache a mile wide...“ he gingerly lifts it up and takes a sip. „...because some AC/DC or... Black Sabbath or... whatever song is pounding through their skull.“ he smirks.

„He deserves it for leaving me hanging for years! YEARS, platypus!“ Tony scowls at his so-called best friend who, he's pretty sure, just made fun of him. Why is he friends with Rhodey again?

„He?“ Pepper asks innocently. „You sound so sure it's a he.“

„Hum? Whatever. She, he, they. What I mean is, he... They deserve it, for what it's worth.“ Tony closes his eyes and tries to think of his mate. A man or a woman? How old would he be. Not he. They. Focus!

But his couch is so soft and his head is starting to get all fuzzy and...

„You're not sleeping here!“

He groans at the prick of nails in his side. „Ge'off, Pep!“

„No.“

More pricks and shoves and he's seriously considering firing her. „Make a note, J!“ he grumbles and get's to his feet. Has to be an earthquake around her somewhere with the ground moving like it is.

„Don't forget the meeting tomorrow morning, ten sharp!“ Pepper shouts after his stumbling out of the room before she starts poking and prodding at Rhodey who just groans.

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere in the tower, two people meet.

One is shuffling on unsteady feet towards, what he hopes, is his room.

One can't sleep without first checking everything is safe. Or as safe as can be.

They bump into each other, the taller steadying the smaller, swaying man who sighs and buries his face in soft, well worn fabric.

 

* * *

 

 

_They come together, icy blue and chocolate brown, pale and tanned, finally touching. Through time and space they recognise each other as one, as home, their other half._

_Hands fumble with fabric to get closer, feel the others skin. Fabric rips and they are bathed in a blue glow, so beautiful that the taller has to blink against the tears threatening to fall._

_A silvery hand covers the blue glow, casting dark shadows over pale skin._

_A tanned hand, scarred and calloused, traces over scars, follows the line where flesh meets metal._

_Their foreheads touch, eyes closed._

_Not enough, never enough but close enough for now._

 

* * *

 

 

Steve can't sleep. Hasn't slept well for a while now. It's not that he can't function with little sleep, the serum helps in that regard but still. He feels stretched thin, frayed at the edges.

Nothing is as it should be.

Nothing goes as it should have gone.

Back then he thought he could have it all. The serum was supposed to make him better, help him achieve everything he set his mind to.

But he lost Bucky, didn't he?

Wasn't good enough, fast enough, strong enough to save him.

Then he lost Peggy, not long after waking up, and that nearly broke him. He'd visited her whenever he could, talked to her and mourned for the lifetime they could have had. But she still was there, her song still as strong as it ever was... until it ended.

He buried himself in his work, what else was he good for otherwise? He had to be better for Bucky, for Peggy, work with SHIELD against any threat that sprung up until...

Until he found out that Bucky was alive.

And he had a new song and thought that, maybe, just maybe it was a sign.

He would save Bucky, bring him back and help him remember.

Things never go as planned though and then Tony had to butt in and involve a shrink, as if Bucky is crazy and dangerous.

Not to say that the shrink doesn't help, Steve can see that Bucky is... not his old self yet but better. So, he can acknowledge that involving the shrink helps. A bit. Not that he couldn't have done it by himself. Not for the first time he thinks that maybe bringing Bucky into the tower wasn't his best idea.

And he's still looking for a nice appartment in Brooklyn, _shut up Sam_!

He rolls around and looks at the clock. 4:30, and sleep seems to evade him once again. Too many thoughts racing through his head that he can't seem to stop. He rubs his face, get's up and starts his day.

Half an hour later, dressed for his run and ready to head out, he stops in his tracks. He could ask Bucky if he wants to join him on a run around Central Park. Or just through the streets of New York. Visit some of their old haunts, see if something brings up new memories (and he knows that the shrink doesn't recommend it, _Sam, shut up already_ ).

There's still one thing where he put his foot down. Bucky is still staying with him, on his floor. He'd grabbed Tony before he could do anything stupid, offering to furnish another floor for example so there's that.

He walks towards Bucky's door, listening intently for any sound. Bucky never makes any but he listens anyway. Can't hurt. He lifts an arm, about to knock when he hears it. A groan, shuffling of sheets. He's about to barge in, help Bucky with whatever is going on when...

„ _I wouldn't recommend going in, Captain.“_

„What!?“ he freezes, hand clasping the door handle.

„ _I wouldn't rec...“_

„I understood you the first time, JARVIS, I'm just wondering why you would say that when Bucky is having a nightmare by the sound of it. Aren't you supposed to help or something?“ Steve shakes his head, pushes the handle down and walks into the room.

He can hear Bucky's breathing, too fast, interrupted by a groan every now and then. He starts planning. Bucky shouldn't have anything remotely weapon-like near him. Shouldn't. Pays to be carefull though, and who knows what Bucky can come up with so he creeps towards the bed. Careful and slow, watching every movement and... Huh. Bucky's right hand is grabbing the sheets and his left, metal arm is...

He turns and rushes out of the room, face burning. He didn't need to see that! Well... maybe he did. But not while Bucky is sleeping and dreaming of.... whoever he is dreaming of.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning comes too early and too bright. He wakes up slowly, JARVIS' voice coaxing him out of, what has to be said, the hottest dream he's had for years. He's groaning and buries his face in a pillow, trying to block out the light and going back to his dream.

„ _Sir, Miss Potts on the line for you.“_

He waves an arm, briefly considering to visit the bathroom to... well. Either throw up or put his head under cold water. And since he's been a little, well, against putting too much water and his head in too close proximity... Throwing up seems to be a good start for the day...

„Morning sunshine!“ Peppers voice rings from the speakers, too loud and too bright. He groans.

„Pep, light of my life, please tell me there's a nice little pill waiting for me somewhere!“ he pleads. „I don't even care if it's aspirin or poison! Is Thor around? I bet he can put me out of my misery with his hammer!“

Peppers laughter follows him when he rolls out of bed and starts stumbling towards coffee. Or death.

The kitchen is filled and when did he think it was a good idea to fill his home with so many people? He zeroes in on the pot of coffee spouting black gold, Peppers warning of 'You better be there or I'll come for you!' still ringing through his throbbing head when something grabs his arm. He squeaks, totally reasonable if you ask him, and holds out one arm to steady himself.

„Sit down before you hurt yourself!“

He whines and, after the grabby arm pushes him on a chair, drops his head on the table. He opens one eye, trying his best 'You got between me and my coffee'-glare.

Rhodey is in no better state, slumped over a mug of ambrosia, holding onto it for dear life.

„Never. Again!“ Rhodey rasps. „If you or Pepper ever call me again with important news or some shit, I'll send you flowers.“

He manages a half hearted smirk. „You'll still be my best man at the wedding though, right, Rhodey-bear?“

Rhodey growls and winces. „Don't you joke about that, Tones. And don't even think about starting anything with that half-wit that managed to get you! I'll put them through the ringer first!“

„I knew you loved me!“ Tony whispers. „Now I can die in peace.“

„No dying in the kitchen!“ Someone, Nat, his brain helpfully provides, puts a steaming mug infront of him.

„I love you!“ Tony grabs the mug and it's blazing hot but so good he'll take some scorched taste buds in exchange for his life.

He's just about ready to go find some aspirin when the Avengers alarm starts blaring and Steve's voice comes through the speakers.

„AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!“

So it's one of these days... He sighs and goes to suit up.

 


	18. Something in the air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only took me three months this time >_< Sorry guys. But with moving, work and problems getting this chapter to cooperate (seriously, rewrote it so many times it's not even funny anymore...).  
> The reason this chapter is not even 2k words is because...  
> ...my plans for the next parts could go one of two ways and it's your choice (because I'm not sure of how to proceed myself here, not just to beg for more comments^^).  
> 1\. Fluffy - About two-three more chapters  
> 2\. I'd say Angsty but as it is, just Tony and Bucky being BAMF (and some fluff because why not^^)- I don't know how many chapters but let's say five, just to be on the safe side.
> 
> This story is about to come to a close, that's the only thing I'm sure of and the ending is already planned out. Both options work with the ending and I have some plans as to how the chapters of both options could go. I could also offer to add a one-two-three shot of how the story could have progressed if the other option was chosen...
> 
> (And I apologise for the way I'm treating Steve here... again^^ But I've been reading some post-CW fics and am still sooo salty about everything -.- There's some other ideas spooking around my head for other fics with nice Steve too, but with this one... it's not changing, sorry folks)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, Kudos and commenting and I promise to not let you wait another three months for the next chapter :)

The fight, if you could call it that, is over fast. Some little shit had too much fun with some chemicals and part of New York was covered in sentient slime. No biggie. Except...

Except for her now slime dripping blue hair and slime covered clothes. She's seething when she hands over the babbling fool to the authorities. The worst part? No one else is covered as much as she is. Steve has some protection from his shield, Tony (allthough nauseous and hungover) isn't worse for wear since he started cooking the slime from a distance with his repulsors or some shit and Clint never got anywhere near them. Archery not so useful against shit like that. The others, Hulk had some fun smashing into the malleable things and then jumped into the river to get clean (explain that to Greenpeace) and Thor electrocuted everything. Tony's suit too but he's learned after a few instances to protect his tech from that so nothing bad happened there. She's the only one to be covered head to toe by that stinking, slimey stuff and god help the guy who did this if it doesn't come out in the wash!

The flight home goes by without too much bickering. Everyone is scrunching their noses because the stuff covering her starts to smell 'a bit rancid, sorry Tash' but it's fine. What's not fine is the greeting they, or better yet Steve, get's as they get out of the elevator and enter the common rooms.

Steve, for all his super-soldierness and overall 'golly gee Ma'am' attitude (which she believed for all of ten seconds, seriously, no soldier ever got by without cursing a blue streak every now and then), had a blind spot as big as texas when it came to one James 'Bucky' Barnes. She'd been against his mission of bringing Bucky, no, James in after the mess that was 'Project Insight'. 'Give him time' she'd said. 'Let him sort his thoughts, he'll come around'. She never believed he would but some hope was better than none for Steve. And then the stubborn idiot had to go out, find his long lost love and bring him back to New York, back to the man whose parents James killed, no matter that he was the Winter Soldier at the time. That had to be a slap in the face of Tony, no matter how he played it down.

All was good though. Yeah right. Something was wrong in 'Happily ever after'-land of Captain America. And boy did he show it. Bristling whenever someone said anything about how he handled his 'Bucky', snapping at Tony for bringing up therapy. It never got boring around the tower, that's for sure.

And that's why she isn't exactly surprised when James Barnes, BFF of Steve Rogers, slams a fist in said super soldiers face and starts snarling at him.

No surprise at all.

He snarls in russian and Natasha is the only one able to understand him. She holds back Clint and shakes her head when he looks at her with raised eyebrows. No need to interfere. Yet. Thor, who grabbed his hammer about to interfere, stopps in his tracks, brow crinkling in confusion (Allspeak, of course he understands Barnes' missgivings). Bruce looks a bit green around the eyes but he's probably too exhausted to Hulk-out again. He did have lot's of fun smashing today and Tony is already on him, muttering something to calm him down. Hopefully.

The reason she's not surprised at Steve hanging from Barnes' left, much stronger, arm now and scrambling for purchase is the snarling. Should she have seen it coming? Sure. For that reason? No.

They all were prepared for a relapse or something from Barnes. One does not come back from decades of brainwashing and being used as a killing machine without any damages. So, they were prepared for something violent happening. Barnes trying to go on a killing spree or, less violent, just dissapearing into thing air again. Something.

This, she figures, is not something she has to interfere with. Steve brought it on himself.

„Buck...“ Steve tries to talk, blinking at his teammates for help or something but no one reacts.

„<No!>“

„What...“

She feels bad and is about to intervene, just to get Steve a little breathing room (seriously, the mans face is nearly blue now) but someone reacts first. Coming out of left field is Tony. He walks up to Barnes and starts whispering to him, He grabs the arm that still has Steve in a throat crushing grab and Barnes face scrunches up. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, shudders and slowly let's go of Steve. A few more words, a scathing look at a crumbled down Steve and then Tony takes Barnes' hand and leads him away.

And their fearless leader? Groans and looks at the leaving men with something in his eyes that she doesn't want to look to close at. But of course she will. She's not the Black Widow for nothing, after all. Information is her thing and she has to know, at least, why.

She gives him a few moments to get his bearings. She shouldn't. You get the truth far easier if the mark is unsettled but... It's Steve. And when it comes to her team mates she's... compromised. There. She won't ever admit it but to herself she can be honest.

„What the fuck Steve?“ Her voice is calm, body relaxed. Steve just looks at her, wide eyed and confused and Clint pipes up a „Language, tsk Tash!“

„I don't...“ Steve coughs, winces and starts again. „What was that? Why did he attack me?“

„Because you didn't fucking tell him about Tony's parents!“ she smiles sweetly at him and turns around. „Somehow your 'Bucky' found out about it and now you're going to sleep on the couch for the rest of the year. I'd watch my neck in the future and sleep with one eye open if I were you.“

She grabs Clints arm and pulls him out of the room, leaving Bruce and Thor to deal with Steve. She and Clint have some snooping to do, after all.

–

This could have gone better, he's man enough to admit it. But who would have known Bucky would ever find out about it and react that way? Not Steve, that's for sure. And it's not like he would have kept it a secret forever. Just... long enough for Bucky to be more... Bucky. Cause with how things are at the moment? Bucky still has a ways to go.

That's not to say Steve blames him. Not at all. Just... It's been months and their relationship isn't even near to how it had been. Back then. It's always been Steve and Bucky and now. Well, now Bucky doesn't talk to him. Not really.

Bucky's come out of his funk, somewhat. Talks to people and sometimes even jokes with them, but it's still a pale imitation of the man he used to be.

And that's fine. Really. For a while. But with the help of the therapist, shouldn't there be some progress, at least? Some of the old Bucky coming through? Is it too much to want Bucky to heal?

Steve doesn't think so and, if he's honest with himself (and he always is, he's not lying. Not even to himself!) he thinks that he could have done better. They had Bucky back for three weeks and he'd been in the kitchen when Tony walked in to show off that stupid video of his, scaring Bucky away with his flashy and rude attitude.

So why does he feel like shit now?

He hadn't planned on Bucky finding out about Starks parents like that (and it wasn't a lie, not really. He just hasn't talked about it yet). And he has to check on Bucky now because who knows what Stark is going to do to him now that the cat is out of the bag!

He's been expecting something like this for weeks. When he first mentioned bringing Bucky in and to the tower Stark nearly flipped out, started rambling about bringing a brainwashed assassin and the murderer of his parents into his home. It took some convincing and cajoling (and Steve hated that he had to do this just to get Bucky the help he needed and the safety of the tower to start the healing process) but after some time Stark folded and saw reason. It wasn't Bucky. The Winter Soldier was the one, not Bucky and Stark seems to have come to terms with that. Why else would he have started helping Bucky, in his own way with hired help...

So why does he feel dread pooling in his stomach now, why does he want to go rescue Bucky from Stark? He could have done anything to him while he was working on Bucky's arm. And boy did he do some good work on that... thing. The arm gives Steve the creeps. It's something from Hydra and Steve isn't really comfortable with it. Maybe he can ask Tony to remove it one of these days. Just in case Hydra put something in there to trigger Bucky or something. That could happen, right? Steve's just looking out for his best friend, Steve's feelings about it are not taken into consideration there. And anyway, Stark can't possibly find everything Hydra left in there.

Decision made, Steve starts scouring the tower. There's many places one can hide, even though he's not going to embarass himself again by trying to squeeze into the vents. Once! He tried it once and Stark had to make fun of him. To this day, Steve is still trying to find a way to get back at Tony with something equally embarassing. No luck yet.

Bucky isn't in his room, but Steve already guessed that much to be honest. That would be the first place to look for him and Steve scanned the room just in case. He tried, at first, to wheedle JARVIS into helping him but somehow the AI seems to have taken Bucky's side. Well, Stark took Bucky with him anyway so no wonder JARVIS keeps quiet about their position. No matter what Steve tries, JARVIS doesn't budge. He's come up with some scenarios but he should have known better. JARVIS has his eyes and ears everywhere (which creeped Steve out at first but Stark wouldn't listen to his complaints about privacy) and would know if Tony was in danger and alarm the team. Steve's just not sure about the AI's protocols if Bucky was in danger. Stark could do anything to him!

His search goes on for a while, he looks everywhere and there are so many doors and hidey holes he's about to go crazy when it hits him. How could he have missed the obvious? They're in the workshop, if they're still alive, that is. If Bucky is still alive. He starts running for the stairs, not sure if JARVIS would bring him to the workshop or not and starts to plan out the conversation he needs to have with Bucky. His reasons for not telling Bucky everything from the start.

 


	19. Well... shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai! 'waves'  
> So, for TennyReader, the only one asking for one of the options, we start with this. It's short. It's... different?  
> Hope you all like!  
> Kudos and comments feed my insecure little heart so, thanks for the continued support and MY GOD this fic has more than 500 Kudos o_O (Never expected that, tbh^^)

It's cold. That's the first thing that comes to his mind and for a second he imagines opening his eyes to Yinsen sitting somewhere in a cave in the middle of Afghanistan and he jerks up, eyes casting around for anything familiar.

The blue glow of the Arc Reactor the only light source in the rectangular room puts his speeding heart to rest for a moment until... Yeah, shit.

He groans and rubs over his face. The left side hurts like nobody's business and the right is damp, no doubt from all the drooling he's been doing on the floor. _Class act right there._

Legs shaking, he get's up and sways for a moment, eyes closed and tries to get his balance back.

 

* * *

 

He's strapped down on some strange contraption without any memories on how he got there. The room is nearly bare, just a table with some instruments he can't even imagine what they could be used for and the... thing hes on. It's not a chair, at least, but still something he want's out of. Now, thank you very much.

Someone in white walks by him, from behind and he didn't even hear him walking and that's not good. _Concentrate. Listen!_

The man isn't alone, there's at least three more somewhere behind him, rustling around with papers and scribbling something down. No one talks.

„<Soldier!>“ the man near him speaks up. „<Report!>“

He want's to snort. These guys really think he's... Wait. How... Yeah. Shit.

„Fuck you!“ he snarls and the mans face scrunches up. The man holds up a red notebook and waves with it, sneering in his face.

„It takes about six hours for you to shake your reset, did you know that?“

 

* * *

 

 

The room is empty. Just a door and walls. Nothing he can use, not even a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Somewhere between trying to get James to calm down and this place someone must have switched out his flight suit to some pants and shirt made out of the flimsiest material available. Thinking of James... Was he here somewhere or did they just take Tony?

 

* * *

 

 

When the first jolt of electricity hits, he starts screaming. He hoped, prayed sometimes, that he wouldn't have to go through that again. The contraption around his head is pulsing with blue lightning and it's all so familiar and yet not and it should take him away but it doesn't and...

 

* * *

 

 

Bored. So fucking bored he could cry. He already looked around his 'cell' for lack of a better word because for a room it's missing some necessary amenities but a cell usually has some nice metal bars at the windows (which are missing in this case) and instead of a door so... It's a cell, just because he has to name it, sue him. He's already checked the cell for anything usable but no dice. Seems his kidnappers had some brains at least, not leaving anything for him to use to escape. In the end... he's bored. Like out of his mind bored. Nothing happens, no one answers to his banging on the door and shouting for someone. Nothing happens. No sound, no light except for his Arc Reactor and he just wants outoutout, like right fucking now pretty please with cherries on top. He'd take someone to come in and mock him or hit him or something just to get his brain stopping from churning out every possible scenario he can come up with (and some impossible ones too, while he's at it).

 

* * *

 

 

He's still there. Feels like his head's been split with a rusty axe and his muscles are seizing uncontrollable but he's still here. He still remembers and that's some small comfort all things considered.

The men in white are adjusting the contraption around his head every time, typing on tablets or hissing at each other and still, it doesn't work. After the fourth or fifth try one of them throws his tablet against the wall and James barks out a laugh. His sight starts to get blurry with the pain and aftershocks of electricity but damn it, he's not giving them an inch!

 

* * *

 

 

There's no cameras around, no surveilance, the door fits in like... well, no cracks anywhere that he can use, he's good and thoroughly stuck and it's driving him mad!

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't know how long it's been since this torture started but after the nth try (really, he can't be arsed to count every single restart of the machine now, can he?) the white coats just... stop. They've been shouting at each other for a good while now, throwing things at each other and waving sheets of paper around. He doesn't know, doesn't really care at the moment what's on them because the machine has stopped and that's all he cares about right now. He want's to go home!

 

* * *

 

 

Head. Wall. Head. Wall. What if he uses morse code on the door? Head. Door.

 

* * *

 

 

Home. When has the tower become his home? Sometime during the last few months the tower and his inhabitants, the Avengers, has become his home and he's so okay with it. He want's to go home, sit in the kitchen and watch the spider and the bird bicker until the bird screeches and vanishes in the vents at a glance from the spider. Want's to sit on the comfy couch and watch movies, in colour and with so... much, life like and everything, and chat with Thor and Steve. Want's to sit with Bruce and drink tea (even though Tony's coffee is still hands down the best beverage available, sorry Bruce). And...

Tony. Tony in his workshop, talking a mile a minute, waving his hands around like he's conducting an orchestra, DUM-E always ready with his fire extinguisher (and really, the amount of times he's used them on Tony and on James himself is just astonishing). He want's Tony to sit beside him on that stupid old couch (stolen from MIT years ago, if Tony is to be believed), listen to him talk and work on his arm (which is so much better now).

 

* * *

 

 

The floor is still so god damned cold, his butt is freezing off and his head hurts. Who'da thunk that banging his head against solid walls and doors and shit would hurt so much? Genius at work here.

 

* * *

 

 

He closes his eyes and tries to block out the voices of the coats. The machine stays down for the moment and he has the chance to recover, at least a bit. He listens to his song and starts humming softly.

 

* * *

 

 

No one reacts to his morse code. Could it be they just chucked him in here and left? Where is here anyway and what do they want with him? At least it's better than last time where he woke up to some pretty serious body modifications and yeah, nope, not going there right now. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, concentrating on his song (and that's a novelty in itself because it just started like what? Yesterday? How long has he been here? How long will it take for him to get out of this place?). His song. He marvels at the melody and starts humming.

 


	20. Dinner date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, sorry :S But this was a nice place to end this chapter and we can continue with Tony and James' struggles to free themselves because the Avengers are clueless or just inept at saving them (not decided yet ;)). Next chapter is well on it's way though so... short but another one coming up as soon as it's finished!  
> As always, Kudos, comments are greatly appreciated :)

He wakes up as the door swings open. Blurry eyed he blinks at the light streaming into the room, no, cell. He doesn't know how long he's been in here but by the dry feeling in his mouth and throat, the growling of his stomach and the start of a headache, it has to be a long time. He's had work binges lasting for days without eating and drinking enough and he's never felt as bad as this... Well, except for Afghanistan but, not going there. Ever again if at all possible.

Two blurry figures walk in and grab his arms, pull him to his feet. Any other time he'd answer the manhandling with a sarcastic quip but his throat is too dry to speak, the only sound out of his mouth is a garbled something he doesn't really want to remember after all this is over and done with.

They drag him through glaring bright corridors, through doors and rooms equiped with machinery he would have loved to take a better peek at (after drinking a gallon of water and eating a few burgers, at least... Burgers, now that's something.... _Focus!!_ ).

The next room is decorated and smells fan-fucking-tastic! The table is filled with all kinds of food and drink and he'd weep and beg just to take one bite and a sip of something, please!

The goons put him on a chair, no chains _Yay!_ and... leave the room? What's...

He eyes the food, instantly suspicious. Shame to let all that good food go to waste, isn't it? On the other hand, what if it's poisoned or something? Decisions, decisions. He has some sort of survival instinct, no matter what Steve always tells him, thank you. He's survived his twenties, Afghanistan and other shit so, yeah. And this food, no matter how good it smells, it still has a hint of **dangerous, be careful.**

„Oh, don't be shy on my account, Mr. Stark.“

The voice comes from behind him, footsteps and then a man in a suit walks by him and sits on the opposite end of the table.

„Only the best for you.“ the man smiles and starts filling up his plate.“As you might have noticed, Mr. Stark, we are not your usual inept kidnappers and, to be honest, we wouldn't have taken anyone except for the Winter Soldier but then... You were right there and we might have need of you so we brought you along for the ride.“ He takes a sip from a glass of wine and the liquid looks delicious and soft and everything good in the world, light breaking on the surface and Tony can't help but lick his lips. Just one sip!

The man smiles and moves his hand, let's the wine swirl in the glass. „Trust me, Mr. Stark. We would shoot our hands off, so to speak, if we were to poison or drug you. We need your genius to work out some problems, after all. You see...“

„I'm out of the weapons business.“ Tony's voice is gravelly after who knows how long of shouting at the door and no liquid. „And for everything else, my consulting hours are every other Tuesday, nine to five.“ he smirks and leans back.

„Oh, we're not interested in weapons. But please, eat, drink. Business can wait for a bit, no? At least until you're well fed and watered? Hugo! Bring some water for Mr. Stark, please.“ The mans voice get's louder at the order and someone, Hugo? Walks up, from behind, again, and puts a carafe of water infront of Tony. Ice cubes swim in the clear liquid and the carafe is covered in condensation and it looks so good and....

„Please, Mr. Stark. Help yourself. No need to be shy. You're among friends here.“ The man smiles again and starts eating.

It doesn't take long for Tony to throw all caution over board and take the water and it's FUCKING AMAZING! He eyes the different dishes for a moment while gulping down his second glass of water and then loads up his plate with everything in reach _and yes, Brucie, even some greens, see?_ He can ignore the voices in his head, screaming at him for being reckless and stupid to take anything from these guys (Steve's voice is the loudest, Pepper's the shrillest, but that's neither here nor there...).

„So, you might like to know that it is indeed Tuesday, so if you can excuse a little delay in time, I believe we could come to an agreement, of sorts?“ Good cop sit's there, food forgotten on his plate, comfortably leaning back in his chair and studying Tony inhaling anything in reach.

If Nice Guy can be believed and it really IS Tuesday then he has been here for... Who's he kidding? He doesn't really know what day it was and since JARVIS isn't around to help him out, he draws a blank. Stupid dependance but then again, knowing what day it is doesn't really matter to him anyway.

„What kind of agreement are we talking about?“ Tony muffles out between bites, manners be damned and Jarvis, the real one, isn't around anyway. Hasn't been for a long while and, not going there either!

„A few months ago, we made an acquisition, of sorts. We didn't know, at the time, that the item wasn't in the hands of the seller since they had all the required paperwork and even provided a live stream of the item in question. We've always been interested in this particular item, so we agreed to buy it, for a reasonable price too, since the seller was desperate.“ The man pauses and takes a sip of his wine, waiting for something.

Tony, thirst and growling stomach soothed for now, leans back, glass of water in hand. „First, who is we? Second... what's that got to do with me? And, last but not least, why do you think I would do anything for you, seeing as you kidnapped me and put me in a cell for who knows how long?“

The man smiles again (and Tony wishes for his armor or at least one gauntlet to smash that stupid face in) and slides a tablet towards him. „We don't have to be enemies, Mr. Stark. On this tablet is everything we know about our acquisiton. I'd like to point you to one of the videos labeled December 16th 2001\. You'll find it very interesting, I'm sure.“ The man stands up and walks toward one of the doors. He turns around. „We didn't plan on taking you but it seems to be our luck to take back what's ours and an engineer of your caliber who might be able to help us to recalibrate our newest asset. Watch the video, eat, drink and when you're done I'm sure we will come to some sort of agreement.“

 


	21. 32557038

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uh... I'm not sure about this chapter, actually. But it is what it is just... 
> 
> WARNING for torture and pain and so much bad stuff happening. I'm putting some kind of summary at the end, just in case. Don't want to trigger anyone :(
> 
> I'm going right to hell you guys T_T It get's better though!

„ _Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan. Sergeant. 32557038. Barnes, James Buchanan...“_

_The man is strapped onto a table, lights glare at him and he whispers. Desperate whispers. Always the same words. Barnes, James Buchanan. His name. Sergeant. His army rank. 32557038. ID number. He isn't answering any questions, not reacting to anything the men, that come into the room every now and then, do._

_Whenever his eyes start to droop, someone comes in and hits him across the face or empties a bucket of water on the man. They don't let him sleep, ask questions, try to get through to him._

Tony regrets having eaten so much.

_Men in white coats surround the table, the whirring of a saw can be heard but the worst thing? The man strapped down is thrashing in his binds, screaming his lungs out._

_Blood is dripping to the floor as the men work, it's delicate work and it takes hours even though the footage is sped up. The man, James, passes out and everytime that happens someone slaps his face or shocks him. They wait until he is conscious again and only then continue working. The arm is a masterpiece of engineering, the man on the table is shaking from shock and blood loss._

He get's up and slowly makes his way to one corner of the room and vomits, flashes of hands digging into his chest, pain, a battery behind his eyes. He can't stop.

_James is still whispering, always the same words, numbers. He doesn't stop even when the men srrounding him start to prod him with tazers They snarl at James, call him Asset and tell him he's nothing. A weapon. James still only whispers between shuddering breaths. A woman comes in and signs for the men to leave. When they're gone she walks up to the table and strokes James' hair. She whispers. „Poor boy. Don't you want the pain to stop?“ A sob escapes James' lips before he has the chance to swallow it down. The video quality is good enough to see tracks of tears running down his face. „You're our Asset, don't make it harder on yourself.“ Her voice is honey sweet. „Just a few more hours and you will be all good.“ She holds his head, hand fisting in hair, bows down and breathes a kiss on his forehead. „Accept it.“ James is breathing raggedly, shivers run down his body. The woman takes his face into her hands and smiles sweetly at him. „You belong to us, Asset. Accept it!“ she purrs and lovingly strokes his face._

He's shivering. He's seen some videos of the Winter Soldier but not the start. Some footage in colour of recalibration in the chair, the attack in Washington and, of course the video of his parents. All left a bad taste behind but this, the start of it all?

_He's in a cell, shivering, asking for water, screaming at the men watching him. Only when he stops they throw a package at him. It's not enough, never enough. Only as much as his body needs to go on._

Dozens of videos only of that particular training. It ends when the James in the video just sits on the floor, rocking back and forth, eyes dull and without hope.

_He's strapped onto the chair, a man walks up and down infront of him. The sound of electricity, James seizes up. It stops and the man utters some words. The woman comes in and drapes herself over James, whispers in his ear, strokes his head and arms then leaves. The man starts pacing again and electricity starts up. Hours of footage only of this._

He tries to figure out what they say, what they tell him but the sound is too low to hear.

„ _What's your name?“_

„ _Barnes, James Buch...“ James seizes up._

„ _Again. Name!“ the voice whips through the room._

„ _B-Barnes. James... James BuchanaAAAHH“_

„ _Asset! Name!“_

„ _Barnes... Ja-J... James.“_

_They start slow with short bursts. They continue, demanding a name. The next burst lasts three minutes._

„ _Name!“_

„ _...“_

_Another burst._

„ _NAME!!“_

„ _Jay... Sashnt...“_

He watches in ever growing horror as James get's erased, clean slate, empty eyes.

_Conditioning. Words that erase everything the man was, leaving behind the Asset. Whenever he tries to rear up he get's the chair. Whenever his behaviour isn't to their liking, back in the chair. There's nothing left of the man that was, he just... exists after a while, assaulted every time he dares to do anything of his own volition._

So much footage, good god.

_The room is empty. The door opens and armed men walk in, James inbetween them._

„ _Stay.“_

_James, no the Asset freezes and grabs his new arm behind his back. The footage speeds up. One hour. The Asset doesn't move. Five hours. He doesn't even twitch. Sixteen hours. He only blinks every now and then. Thirty hours._

_Someone comes in. „Asset!“_

„ _Ready to comply.“ The Asset stares ahead with empty eyes. He doesn't move, doesn't even blink._

_The man pulls something out of his pocket. „Nutrition.“_

_The Asset takes it, rips it open and swallows the content of the package._

It starts slowly, more with every video. James get's punished when he answers in english, get's praise when it's russian. The woman is the worst allthough she plays good (or better, not the worst) cop most of the time. She's manipulating the Asset, and by now it is the Asset, no traces of James left. 

The woman is there for the Asset. Gives him human contact and the Asset soaks up every touch. She talks to him, whispers sweet nothings in his ear when he does everything he's supposed to. She's the one that helps with the words (and that's something Tony has to address as soon as they get out because... no. Just no). She's the sole friendly contact for ages, everything else is torture and pain. Until...

_< \--Asset Compliance-->_

 He doesn't want to watch the video. He's skimmed through some, watched the first kills of the Asset as men, women and sometimes even children get brought before him and the handlers shout and prod the Asset with tazers, demand obedience and order him to kill the people infront of him. So many videos, the Asset breaks down at first, screaming at the handlers. Then he starts obeying, shoots or throttles them with shaking hands. After a while (a good long while, so many videos!) he just takes the order and kills the people brought forward. No reaction. Compliance.

With shaking hands, Tony starts the video.

_The Asset stands in a cell, unmoving. The woman get's dragged in, surrounded by heavily armed guards. She cries, tears run down her face. The Asset doesn't blink. A man in a suit comes in and orders the Asset to kill the woman. No reaction. The woman starts screaming, cursing the man and begging for her life. She has done everything they asked of her, why kill her? The guards let go of her and she sinks to the ground. The Asset steps forward and kneels infront of her. She looks at him and begs. 'Don't kill me.' She touches him, carresses his face with shaking hands. He lifts his hands, covering one of hers with his right, while the left sneaks around her her throat. She whimpers, starts thrashing, tries to pull the metal arm away from her. Her movement get's slower with every passing second, the last thing she does is smile at the Asset, moves her lips as if to say something and then goes still. The Asset let's go, stands up. A single tear rolls down his cheek._

He watches it all. Skims every video. Sometimes it seems that something of James breaks through but it's getting snuffed out as fast as possible.

He studies the reports of the conditioning, of missions and... everything on the accursed tablet and Tony wishes desperately that James is alright. That they didn't succeed in getting the Asset back.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't know how long he's been strapped to the table. The white coats come in every now and then, try something with the contraption around his head, add something to the IV they added a while back to keep him hydrated at least but nothing else. They don't talk to him, don't acknowledge him at all. He doesn't mind though. His song keeps him occupied and he repeats his mantra  _I'm James, I live in Avengers tower and I have to hold on!_ in his head over and over again, in rhythm with his song. They, the Avengers, will find him and get him out of here. Him and Tony, because he's convinced they have him too and isn't that a bitch. 

The events after his breakdown at remembering the mission are hazy... He killed Howard Stark and his wife, for fucks sake! He thinks he may have tried to kill Steve when the Avengers got back from dealing with whatever that alarm was about. Did Steve know about the mission? Did he keep it quiet? He hopes Steve has some convincing answers. What was he thinking bringing James into the home of the man whose parents he killed? That's just... No. And now he's here, unable to move and these damn coats are trying to mess with his head again. Lucky for him, it doesn't work, so they're probably not Hydra. Small mercies.

He's biding his time, waiting for an opening to escape and take the coats down, find Tony and escape. Alternatively, wait for the Avengers to rain hell on the place. Easy. Walk in the park...

Someone's touching his arm and he flinches. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't want to see the impassive face of Coat nr. 3 or something. The hand is warm, the fingers tapping his wrist... wait. Tapping his wrist? Tapping-pause-tapping-pause, it repeats. Morse code.

_James_

Pause

_James_

Pause

He blinks and there's Tony, holding onto his wrist but not looking, talking to the coats. Lot's of words that don't make sense to him but that's fine. Tony looks... not good, really. A bit pale and with some impressive bags under his eyes (even more impressive than after one of his days-long workshop binges and he comes out of his 'shop all tired eyes, shuffling into the kitchen to get one last cup of coffee before he crashes for a day and he looks so soft and sleepy and James just want's to wrap him in a blanket, carry him to his bed and see that he sleeps right now for fucks sake and where did that thought come from?).

Tapping. Right. Forget, for now, how good it feels to have Tony's calloused fingers grip his wrist and tap his name and think! Tony doesn't talk to him but to the coats, he doesn't show that he want's something from James so James has to find out how to inform him that he's here, still is James  _and why would Tony even care? He has to know, right? Steve wouldn't keep that secret from him too, right?_

Focus. Tony needs a sign and talking isn't it so he jerks his arm, small movement but enough. The tapping on his wrist stops and Tony's fingers press a bit harder onto his wrist. He's still talking, waving his other arm around. Misdirection? For what?

The coats seem to get agitated, start arguing with Tony and what the fuck even? When did Tony get to be the boss around here and is it something James has to worry about? Does Tony know and planned some kind of revenge for him? It doesn't add up. Nothing does, but that's nothing new. A year or so ago he was some mindless bag of bones, muscles and flesh, obeying every order thrown his way so... But would Tony do this? After all that time, why would Tony choose now? Maybe he found out about the Assets involvement in his parents death. 

He looks at Tony, wishes desperately for him to look down so James can see his face, his eyes. See them crinkling around the corners when he smiles or the mischievous twinkle when he plans something or the feverish shine at a new idea or... something. Anything. 

The discussion between the coats get's heated, voices loud and hands gesticulating wildly. Tony let's go of his wrist  _no, don't go, don't leave, please!_ and jumps into the discussion, shakes his head and balls his hands into fists. One man in a suit walks towards him with a leatherbound, red notebook... in... his hands and... no. _Please, god, no! Not again. Not ever again!_

He starts thrashing around but fat lot of good that does. He's bound tight, not much room for movement but he still manages some. The man in the suit looks down at him and smiles. A smile that makes him wish to be anywhere but here even more so than before. It's not like he want's to be here after all but right now? Anywhere else would be preferable to this. The panic settling low in his gut, cold, so cold, like ice spreading over every inch of his body and he thought he was safe and Steve promised he was safe and Tony just stands there doing nothing and _please do something, don't let them, free me and I'll take care of it just... Please don't let them undo me again!_

The first word rips through him like a whip. He thought he was done with it and where did these guys find the book anyway?

The next words fall, all familiar and he doesn't want to listen, doesn't want to hear them and yet... 

Tony's hand is back around his wrist, tapping. 

He can't concentrate on them. It's too fast and his heart is trying to beat out of his chest and the tapping is too soft and....

Not long now and he's gone. Is nothing for however long it takes to come back, if he ever comes back. A tiny voice, soothing and soft, whispers in his head. A voice he never thought he'd hear again. 

_Isn't it better like this? You won't have to worry about a thing. All your pain and hurt will go away and you'll never have to feel so lost again._

He can't. He won't!

_You know you can't do anything against it._

NO!

_It'll be much easier if you just accept it. Embrace it._

NO!!!

_You know you want to._

The man in the suit speaks the last word and...

...he's gone.

Blank.

"Soldier?"

"Ready to comply." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Tony watches some videos and reads some reports of the Assets training and brainwashing. Then meets up with James and Suit-guy from last chapter whips the words out.


	22. Getting back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long long wait. We're having some problems with our interwebz and I've been with a really really crappy phone webz for a while now. Our provider is working on better speed or somesuch and the assholes just cut us off and told me to quit and look for another provider. Been having some irritating talks and now, finally, got my internet back. Not as fast as before, but cheaper for now and then later, when all the cables are done or something I'm getting some really fast shit with a good price since I threatened to open a can of whoop-ass ;)  
> I could have posted something earlier through my phone but I'm not as good with typing on that small thing, my skill on that is abysmall, I kid you not. It takes hours for me to type something on there and I get cramps...  
> So, for anyone still looking out for updates on this story, here you are. It's like eight pages in my doc, and not much happens but the next chapter will find our boys in action and I think there's one or two more chapters to come plus an epilogue (epilogue is already done ;))  
> Again, sorry for the wait ;(

He's going to vomit or faint or... something. That was exactly what he tried to prevent, damn it. He just wanted to give James some time, give himself some time. Just his luck.

And now James is gone, leaving behind an empty shell of a man, staring straight ahead, no one home. And one would think that he was prepared for this, he's seen the videos, for fucks sake!

But no. Here he is, barely suppressing shudders and, oh the rage. It burns inside him, he wants to just jump the next guy and rip their throats out. How dare they! Infront of him, knowing that he watched and read all about it and... What are they thinking? That he doesn't care? Doesn't mind that they've taken everything that James is. And how is Tony supposed to get him back? Because he needs to.

James has been a regular fixture in the 'shop for a while, and though he's still the silent brooding type, whenever he's starting to crawl out of his comfort zone or whatever, he's funny. Smart. And interested in the things Tony builds. They even started talking and joking with each other. Don't even mention how good he is with his kids. Yeah, he calls his bots his kids because hell, what other chance would he get to have kids on his own, huh? No one would give him kids, he's barely even able to keep himself alive most days so kids are out of the picture. Except the ones he's built, of course. They don't need the care real kids need even though he is treating them the part, shut up. Not important now.

What is important right now is James, with his throaty laugh _._ So what if Tony can't forget the video incident? It was the first time James did something other than brooding around in his room, sue him for taking the credit to make him break up and laugh at his BFF.

SHUT UP!

Douchebag is talking now, rambling about their success or lack thereoff to bring back the Asset and Tony's involvement. Oh, he'll do it.

Get involved.

Not in the way they would want, of course.

It's not like it's the first time someone wants him to do something and he derails their plans. They should ask the Ten Rings about it.

You know, if any of them were still alive.

So he nods, throws some words around, fiddles with the headpiece which is still attached to an unmoving James and plans. Now that he knows what they're about, now that he has everything infront of him, he should come up with something, right? He's not being called a genius for nothing, after all. It'll all be fine and they'll be laughing about it later, when they're home.

And they will get home!!

 

* * *

 

Being unmade isn't so bad. Ask James anytime he's sitting in his closet (yes, he's still doing it, sometimes, don't judge!), shaking with his arms wrapped around him, holding himself together.

Being unmade is... nothing.

Nothing hurts, no pain, no worries, no guilt. That's the most important one. There is no guilt. There just is... nothing.

He's never told anyone, and probably never will but sometimes he yearns to be nothing again. Not James, certainly not Bucky. To just be the Asset and be done with it. Things were much easier back then.

He had his orders. He didn't have to choose, decide about anything.

He doesn't miss the pain though.

The white, freezing cold after cryo.

The blue, lightning sparks whenever he needed maintenance.

The stabbing pain whenever some hack poked around his arm.

He doesn't miss that at all.

And the food.

He would miss that, allthough, considering he wouldn't remember anything at all, he wouldn't know what he's missing.

And the people. Oh god, the people he's met.

After forgetting about at least one of them. Probably two, since he suspects he's known the spider once but that's something for another time.

Steve, royal pain in the ass best friend who is different and yet not and so overwhelmingly suffocating with his worries and pleas about Bucky and everything. He's still a friend and James would miss him terribly. You know, if he'd remember him at all. And got over his grudge about keeping secrets. Steve still deserves a few hits for that. Probably.

Sam, the falcon. Flying menace who tries to shrink him every now and then but mostly takes care of Steve's overbearing mother henning and everything. He's a good guy. If he's silent and doesn't try to shrink his head or something.

Bruce, quiet and calm most of the time. He's good for night time tea or coffee, when James stumbles out of his room and tries to get away from the cold and Bruce is there, just out of his lab and... it's nice.

Thor, big puppy that he is, is good for exploration. They both don't know about movies or music and some electrics that aren't used for murder (and there aren't many, you can use most everything for murder!) and how they work.

The spy twins. The spider and the bird. He knows the spider, is pretty sure about it but doesn't have any details and Natasha _Natalia_ isn't one to talk. The bird is different, he yaps all the time, about anything and everything and... it's good. It's all good.

They're all good.

_Don't forget Tony._

Of course, the one he would miss most. And he's not even sorry for Steve because... well. James may or may not been having some dreams about that ass, uh, man. The man, with the mighty fine ass. After spending so much time with Tony in his workshop, after meeting Tony on his night time wanderings a few times, after... everything.

And he shouldn't, considering what he's done. He shouldn't dream of the man, shouldn't imagine Tony in his arms, among other things, smiling his brilliant smile and... Welp.

He shouldn't.

And...

That would all be gone.

Being unmade is a two sided sword.

You leave the bad behind, sure.

But all the good too.

_And never forget that they used you!_

He's killed, undiscriminantly. Just a few orders and he was off, killing whoever they put infront of his weapon (and sometimes he didn't even use weapons, just his two hands).

So yeah, being unmade.

It's good.

It's bad.

And horrible in the wrong hands.

So much blood on his hands.

When someone knows how to unmake another person, that person doesn't have much say in it.

But James is willing to fight.

And so he does.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing he grabs on to is music. Well, not music at all, just some distorted melody, single notes of... something. Something important.

And that's all there is for now.

It's a struggle to BE. He doesn't know what to be or who to be, but he knows the melody, the song is important.

If he can get it right, that is.

He follows every single note, they're changing with time, sorting themselves until the melody is just... right.

And then the singing begins.

He doesn't understand it but it doesn't matter. He knows the song. Has known it for a long time.

And that's all there is for a good while.

Time flies by, it could be just seconds, it could be days, months, years, doesn't matter. He will get it back.

Whatever it is.

He will get himself back. Whatever it takes.

It's like climbing up a wall, something steep and slippery, with just a few cracks here and there to put his toes and fingers in.

He starts at the bottom, the nothing around him beckoning to him to just let go, bask in nothing, be nothing.

No pain.

No guilt.

But he can't.

He won't!

So he get's to climbing.

And it's a hard climb up to wherever he has to go to get back to whoever he is and it's confusing.

But there it is. There he is. And he has to get it, get himself back. Sort himself out and just go kill whoever tried to take over his life again because he promised himself that it wouldn't happen ever again.

And that's when he consciously recognises, for the first time, that he can do it, that the process of getting back is well on it's way and he pushes harder.

It doesn't matter for what, yet.

It doesn't matter that someone around him still has the ability to push him down into the nothing, back to where he is nothing.

It doesn't matter because he did it once, he can do it again. And again. As often as it takes to hold.

And then he will rip all their throats out!

He's pretty well trained, after all.

And they deserve no better.

But for now, he's climbing. Surrounded by his song.

And he comes back. Bit by agonising bit, he comes back.

One moment he is surrounded only by his song, the next he swears he hears Stevie, and oh my god how could he have forgotten Stevie??? He hears Stevie cheering him on. Just one more step, one more pull, you can do it.

Then there's a brilliant smile and brown eyes crinkling at the edges, a smooth voice telling him that yes, he can do it. That everything will be okay.

And that's all he needs for now. Surrounded by his song, cheered on by Stevie and the smooth voice _Tony._

He want's to shout out, tell the fuckers that he's coming for them and to prepare themselves because he's not taking any prisoners and, to be honest, he needs a bit of a workout right now.

But he can't.

Yet.

So he starts humming his song.

Under his breath because he doesn't really want the fuckers to hear his most precious possession. The one thing that has been with him for years, decades. The one thing that nothing could take from him.

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Tony realizes something different is when James' breathing starts changing. He wouldn't have cought it at all, if not for the fact that he was working on the headpiece, still attached to James and so he's able to hear and feel the change in his breathing.

At first he's not sure about his observations. It could be nothing, after all, just some curious coincidence or something. It's not like everything he's seen so far, about the conditioning and training of the Asset, came with some kind of manual or 'How the Asset should behave and what to do if that changes'. Title is still out on that one, he's not at his best since his genius is occupied with trying to find a way to reverse the conditioning or something. Not on witty titles for imaginary handbooks.

And that kind of thinking doesn't help at all in the process of finding out how the machine works and how to fuck things up a) without damaging James and second, maybe even reversing decades of brainwashing. No stress though. He's done similar delicate things with way more gun waving and threats of exploding brains so, yeah. He should be used to this by now, right? If only he could access JARVIS in here... Or bounce some ideas off of Bruce. Or just talk to someone not evil or a temporary empty husk.

So, he resorts to muttering. Under his breath. And in Japanese because fuck you. He's not about to inform his kidnappers about his plans so there.

And if it maybe takes him a while to recognise that James starts humming, also under his breath, great minds think alike and all that jazz, no one can fault him for that. Right?

So, with some effort he finds something to do for the goons watching him. Some he sends out for one contraption or other, others he chases away by requesting a specialised tool he totally needs (not) for the Headband-of-Winter (name pending yadda yadda).

Then they're left with only two guards watching the door and James, since Tony is a precious little thing and doesn't even think of attacking them (HAH!), so they totally don't have to watch him at all. Enough other kidnappers have made this mistake in their life. Most of the time it was the last mistake they ever made so Tony is optimistic. Like ninety percent optimistic. Well, at least 85.. Or something. It's not like he has enough time to calculate the numbers right now.

He has better things to do. Like getting James back and getting out of here. Preferably with enough information to prevent anything like THIS happening ever again. He'll probably need Brucie for that anyway. Or some other doctor since Brucie isn't that kind of doctor and wasn't there some kind of neurologist or something, genius with his hands? Why his hands come up right now is a miracle though, he should be famous for his knowledge about brains, right? Anyway, could be he could help with that but they have to get out first so the one thing he has to check on is if James is back or on his way back and if Tony can convince the... Soldier or whatever he is at the moment, to work with him to get out. Piece of cake.

And if he had some time, he would come up with a reason why the Soldier is humming his mothers lullaby...

No.

Time for that later.

 

* * *

 

 

There's a man, squirreling around him, adjusting a strap here, a thingamagic there on the infernal chair he's sitting in. Sometimes the man get's really close, looks him right in the eyes and waggles his eyebrows or grimaces and other shit. Hasn't he been taught that you don't mess with a barely tamed animal?

Cause hey, when he get's out of the chair, heads will roll. So, being too close right now? Not a good idea.

Like, at all.

 

The man is either stupid or on his side.

He's been sending out everyone for one errant or other. Right now, only two guards remain at the door.

If he's stupid, the man sends them out because he doesn't fear. Fear him. Because James is on his way, and he's not taking any prisoners, that's for sure.

Could it be, though, that the man is on his side? Trying to get rid of as many enemies as possible so they have it easier to escape?

And how can James find out without allerting the guards or revealing himself to the man if he's just stupid?

And why does he have the feeling that the man is everything BUT stupid?

There's something in his eyes...

It's...

He starts to hum with James. The same song, winks at him with his stupid brown eyes and...

Tony.

But how...? Why?

Is he helping the others?

Why would he do... Of course.

And James can't even blame him, can he?

He's killed Tony's parents, after all.

So this is how he goes out. And he will not fight it. If Tony want's revenge, he can have it. It's the least James can do, will do. The last thing he can do is stay put and let Tony do his work and go out without a bang.

He can do that, at least.

A stronger man would be able to watch, but James isn't one. He closes his eyes, relaxes his muscles and hums just a bit louder to distract himself from whatever is about to happen.

The last few months pass infront of his eyes and, without being asked, most of them feature Tony.

Tony glowing with mirth as he walked into the kitchen on James' first day out of his room. Well, the first official one, with Team interactions and everything. Every other outing was between James and JARVIS, and since JARVIS has become a friend these past months, he keeps mum on things.

And the guarded mask slipping over his face as soon as he sees James. He still smiled but it was just an echo of the wide grin from before.

The way he reacted to James panic attack, concern written on his face.

They kept stumbling into each other on their night time strolls through the tower, James looking for a way out of his head and Tony coming from his workshop, exhausted and barely on his feet. Or coming back from somewhere, tipsy and in a good mood. Anything, really.

So, in the end, maybe Tony doesn't know but why would he help these assholes with their shit?

Maybe, because Steve didn't tell anyone about it (or didn't even know about the big fat secret buried in James' head). Food for thought.

Question still stands though, why is Tony helping...

„ _James“_

The word is barely there, a breath, barely a sound.

And Tony is so close and if James' hands were free he would grab him and put him in his lap _and that thought came out of nowhere..._

Not that he'd never imagined... something... No. No time right now.

So, instead of following the path his brain wants to take him on, James just quirks an eyenbrow, barely a movement at all but hopes Tony sees it and doesn't take it for a twitch or something.

Tony's head jerks, again with a barely there movement and James would laugh at the way they're acting right now because it just screams bad-spy-movie or something.

Tony turns around and waves at one of the guards.

„Get him out of there, I need to get closer to the electronics.“

The guards look at each other and whisper something while Tony folds his arms in the front and glares at them.

„Today!“

At the snap of Tony's voice they twitch and glare back at him.

„We're not supposed to free him.“ one of the guards snaps back.

Tony rolls his eyes. „Seriously? Look at him, he's a vegetable for fucks sake!“

And James tried hard to stay calm, keep being empty. He listens to Tony and the guards bicker, yes, they bicker with curses and everything until one of the guards takes a step forward, motions for Tony to step back and the other comes closer to the chair.

Tony looks indifferent, bored, almost. And the guard supposed to watch him is not prepared for anything. He still has his weapon in his arms but it's sloppy, relaxed. Something that would never happen with Hydra when the Asset was in the room.

He's not the Asset, of course. Not anymore. But he's still dangerous and will take them out, no matter what. And looking at Tony, he's prepared to rain a lot of pain on the assholes and that's good. Each takes one guard. He'll see what Tony can do outside of his Iron Man armour.

The other guard waits for Tony and his guard to be a few feet away and then pokes James with the nuzzle of his gun. He doesn't react, as much as he wants to snarl and demand to be let loose to rip them to shreds. He keeps on waiting for the shackles to be removed and then...

Then the fun begins!


	23. PSA (Update:not much to see here^^)

 

Update:

Everything fine, move along to the next chapter^^ Thanks for stopping by :D


	24. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... 'checks date' let's pretend it's still April? Somewhere? Even if it's just in my mind?^^  
> Right, sorry you guys, if you've been reading my other story (hint, go read it? ;)), you know that I've lost everything due to some major computer shit going down and stupid me not using google docs, which, I've been informed, saves stuff and if your pc goes tits up, you don't lose all your shit. I took some time and got acquainted with it, and hey, it's not bad? Like, it's saving shit as soon as I'm writing and... damn! Why didn't I know about this?^^ Could have saved me about half a year and the headache of re-writing everything and running against a wall the whole time doing it... :S  
> Anyways, it's not as much as I'd like to give you but I should have some time to write next week, fingers crossed, and if my muses are amenable, I'd love to finish this little story. No promises though, you know how it is.   
> Anyways, enjoy this part, maybe?^^ It's not the exact same as it was (the first edition was longer I believe...) but I tried.

The guard is... well, not smart or else he would never even step close to James but what can you do. He started unbuckling the shackles at his legs. Waiting for a reaction from James but he remains calm, looking like the mindless puppet he's supposed to be. After a few moments of fidgety silence, the guard comes forward and starts with his arms and then removes the headband. When no reaction comes he turns around and is just about to step away when James strikes.

It's fast and clean, the snap of the guards neck loud in the silence and then he crumbles to the ground.

Never turn your back on the Soldier. Ever.

And Tony, oh God, Tony is beautiful and sneaky and turns on his guard with a fluid motion, stabbing him with some tool he secreted away earlier. The guard, slack jawed in surprise, tries to pull up his gun, a last ditch effort to do something, anything, to prevent the inevitable but Tony just swats at the arm and that's enough. The guard falls to his knees, gurgles out something and then stops to exist.

Something in James starts to hum seeing his captors falling down, reduced to nothing while James is still here, is his own man and not under someone else's control and he feels powerful for the first time in however long it’s been that he’s been strapped to that chair and he wants, needs to do something. Something to get rid of that buzzy feeling inside of him, something to make sure he is really here, alive, not reduced to the asset again. 

Humming along with his song, he steps forward, towards Tony who just dropped his makeshift weapon and rubs his hands on his pants. Tony looks up with a grin, creases around his eyes, and opens his mouth, no doubt to say something hilarious and James just…

...bends down and kisses him.

* * *

 

 

What happens next is something neither of them ever experienced or expected to experience. Ever.

Tony, at first, is surprised. It’s not as if he hasn’t thought about kissing James before, no Sir. He’s dreamt about it and that should tell you all about the fixation he’s had on the man for a while. He’s just somewhat shocked that it happened. Here. That it happened at all and is still ongoing, their lips, pressed together and everything is warm and good and they’re still in danger, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Tony never thought it would happen like this or happen at all. Especially not with James.

James on the other hand isn’t surprised so much as confused. He’s never expected to be allowed to do this, to kiss someone, to just walk up to someone without being told off or pushed down or, worse, punished for it. But that’s not true, is it? His time as the asset is done, has been done for a while and up until now he’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen. For someone to unmake him again. Not that the guys around here haven’t tried, they did their best and maybe that’s why he’s so confused to be allowed to have this, to get this, to get something he’s been thinking about in the dead of night, while the whole tower was asleep, while Steve was in the next room.

What every mated pair agrees upon, no matter how or when they found each other, is that you just know. There is one point and when you get to it, when whatever has to happen happens… you know. For some it’s the first time they see each other. For others it’s their first time having sex. It’s different for everyone. Some say they felt their song, their melody behave differently. It get’s louder or quiets down to be barely heard or it slows down, speeds up, every possibility has been noticed at one point or another. Some even proclaimed to have heard the others melody (which in scientific circles is proclaimed to be an impossibility but no one can prove one way or another).

Now with James and Tony, their songs don’t really behave differently, they just finally get in tune. It’s as if their songs have always played out of tune without them noticing and finally, with the help of someone to pitch just right, everything falls together and it’s a difference so small, yet so big that it can’t be ignored.

* * *

 

 

He won’t lie and say he wasn’t afraid, even it it’s been just for a second. When he’s done, the guard lying at his feet, he looks up and smiles, preparing some one liner to check out James’ state or something and James… 

He prowls, no other word for it, up to him, a determined glint in his eyes and attacks Tony, well, his lips and the terror that sweeps through him at first is replaced by a flash of confused surprise because. James kissing him. Here. In the middle of an escape, well, at the start of one and he doesn’t recognise something changing at first but when he does, it makes him shudder.

He’s been prepared to wait, to try and find his other half through any means necessary, even trying to compile a program to help and now his mate is right here, right there with him and has been for a while now. 

They have to talk about it, obviously. There’s some things standing between them but for now, all that’s important is that they’re here, both alright (or as alright as one can be, going through a kidnapping of some sort and other, more horrendous things). Tony’s not looking forward to that talk, he’s allergic against it, breaks out in hives and they probably need a lot of booze to get through it but for now, they should probably focus on escaping.

If James’ lips on his weren’t so distracting.

* * *

 

 

He didn’t know.

He’s never been aware of something being wrong with his song until now. His song has been with him for years, helped him through some of the darkest moments in his life (as much as he can remember, anyway). It’s always been clear, beautiful and his.

Now though.

It’s the same but different altogether, something you didn’t know was wrong until it was right and Tony was the reason for it.

He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but when the rush of excitement, of MINE! finally recedes, he finds himself cradling Tony’s jaw with his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheekbones while their lips still move together, just pressing and sliding against each other without hurry. They have time for that later. 

He leans back a bit and marvels at Tony’s small whine of protest, the flush on his cheeks while his fists clench against his chest. James takes a deep breath and leans their foreheads together.

“We have to get out of here.”

As much as he wants to stay here, alone with Tony and explore this new exciting thing that just happened, they are still somewhere they shouldn’t be.

“Way to ruin the mood Terminator.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bad at tagging, read the tags? :P Will update tags as I go along since I honestly don't know where it's headed. Just one thing, happily ever after. That's it. Some smut probably, be warned, ideas spooking around my head already, waiting to be put to paper...


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